


Sui Iuris

by melilia_minor



Series: Sui Iuris [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bartender!Jihoon, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups &; Lee Jihoon | Woozi are siblings, Dialogue, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Issues, Gay Bar, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pilots, Slow Burn, Tiger mom and her tiger son (?), Wakes & Funerals, but not literal siblings, pilot!soonyoung, rated for language, yes i shldve added that long ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melilia_minor/pseuds/melilia_minor
Summary: “Getting married and starting a family is a given. To say you don’t believe in marriage will certainly get you a negative backlash. At first when I got backlash about it, I would fight back—it’s only my nature after all.“Now, though, I’ve come to accept that they can have their own opinions whereas I can have mine. We just look at [the matter] from different angles, hence there’s no point in arguing.”
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi & Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: Sui Iuris [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753192
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Empty air, empty words | There ain’t a banquet that won’t end

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> This is my 2nd attempt at chaptered fic.  
> Sad news, I kinda lost the feels for my other one so it's gonna take a while (or forever, who knows). My deepest apologies.  
> This one is, as are its siblings, self-indulgent meaning the story probably won't make much sense. For one, as a matter of fact, same-sex marriage is still not recognized in SK and I downright ignored that for the sake of the plot.  
> That said, enjoy reading.

“Not the first.”

“P-pardon?”

“There shall be miscarriage,” continues the otherworldly figure.

“Do you mean…his wife will…a baby-”

“No babies yet!”

Sudden eerie wind rushes in, providing the incense sticks free ride about the incommodious chamber, but that doesn’t bother the already bothered.

 _Yet…? Yet!_ “Will his second marriage cut it then, Shaman Moo?” blurts the mother, elation palpable in her voice.

“Hmmm…that depends on how he receives the first one.” Few vividly colored stones are tossed, crackling sound filling out the otherwise mute vicinity, before the shaman brings not quite a smidgen of what’s on their thoughts into existence, “See here, his spirit and soul aren’t in alignment. Your son may grow to embrace it, or shun the idea of it completely.”

Another yellow bill comes to light. “And in what way may I be of help, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Be on hold.”

The woman can’t hide her disappointment any further, but only because she’s had her fair share of sacrifice and expenses spent. This’d better work out, she’ll make sure of it. “Shaman? Is that for certain?”

“Heed my words,” the person of claimed preternatural power seems anything but slighted by being doubted of said power. “Lest there be consequences.”

“Consequences? What kind of consequences?”

“Your time’s up. You may take your leave now.”

“Name?”

“Lee Jihoon.”

“Kwon Soonyoung. Though I’m sure you already knew.” The other just nods with his eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. Even his fake throat-clearing fails to catch the man’s attention. “Occupation?”

“Part-timer.”

“Convenience store?” Still no visible response. “On what time do you usually go to and get off work? And on what day?”

“Two in the morning and afternoon, every day.” This feels accomplished somehow, because the answer is actually longer than one word. But before his pen can reach the paper, the other snaps his eyes open. “Is this an interrogation? Am I a criminal?”

“Just getting to know each other,” he says matter-of-factly, trying to calm his dispersed nerve. The task’s hard when you’ve got a face to keep neutral despite the attitude no one deserves. “A first officer, aiming for a captain position next year.”

 _Ah…those eyes,_ ‘intimidating’ is now down on the list, too. “Hobbies?”

“Listening to music.”

 _And—the answers are back to being clipped,_ though he’s just barely got out of pubescence himself, all this strkes him as nothing more than talking to a teenager—a rebellious one at that.

“Anything else? Can you cook?” that’s only out there as a means to preserve the expiring conversation.

“Just to survive, yes.”

 _Woah, what a headache._ “Are you only in this for money?”

“Are we done?”

“Um, not quite, please sit down—”

The last sentence is probably unheard as the shorter’s already out of the shop, his cup of coffee untouched.

_Maybe he doesn’t like black, ‘kay, another bullet added._

_Birth name: Kwon Soonyoung_

_Incognitos: Gun, Hoshi, Tiger’s gaze(?)_

_DOB: 1996.06.15_

_Occupation: 4-year first officer, aiming for captain next year_

_Schedule: Varies by week_

_Hobbies: Doing puzzles_

_Shopping_

_Dancing_

_Outdoor activities: hiking_

_Hoarding (is that a thing?)_

_Likes: Home-cooked meals_

_Season changing_

_Soju bombs_

_Tigers_

_Dislikes: Deadlines_

_Patronizing_

_Darkness_

_Cold(s)_

_Pressure (figuratively and literally)_

Jihoon’s sure he’s gonna draw holes on the screen if he keeps up his scrutinizing another second more so he stops, only to sigh again.

_Three birds one stone, Lee Jihoon._

Looking back at his shared apartment, he realizes there’s quite a lot that’s left out, including the keyboard which Jihoon promised himself will be upgraded into a synthesizer and even a sequencer one day and the Mac desktop aka his baby partly because it did drain him a month’s worth of wages. Clothes is all he’s taking with him today, but that’s not to say there won’t be another trip back later into the year. Depending on how long this’s gonna be, or perhaps how long he’s gonna last.

Looking back at his shared apartment of four years, he notices the lair—as Seungcheol likes to call it—looks a lot different today. Adding the fact that neither of them’s ever big on cleaning and sorting things out, it’s only legitimate.

Following a de-lair-ation which is unheard of (literally), the only things left untouched seem to be his mom’s, which aren’t much to be begin with but anyway, pizza boxes, diet-coke cans, ramyun packages, other take-out containers, and just junk in general are in garbage bags categorized and taken out for collecting. His bed’s made as best as he cared to while Seungcheol’s well…he’ll leave the older to it. All dirty clothes that’d made the floor their new home are taken care of, with some sent to be kept in his wardrobe and the rest in his luggage.

Yes, as you might’ve guessed from the start, Lee Jihoon is moving out after a goddamn forever. What’s unbelievable about it is not the act itself, but the fact that he’s _allowed_ to. Choi Seungcheol can be goddamn overprotective if he chooses to be (and Jihoon likewise in the stubborn faculty).

Not much of his time’s spent here since he’s always working one job or another. Still, it’s memories from his best to his worst days he’s leaving behind. And never looking back? Nah, he’s getting married but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Maybe he’ll be back before anyone knows it. Before he knows it.

His plan of taking a taxi was gladly shattered the moment he found out it’s actually walkable from a subway station, not to mention a lot cheaper (with emphasis). Stations later (those during of which he almost fell asleep standing), between handling a suitcase and a duffel bag Jihoon unlocks his phone to pull up the texts sent to him at an earlier time.

**_Unknown_ **

Tue, Aug 13, 2:11 AM

Hello! This is Kwon Soonyoung.

Here’s my address.

Tue, Aug 13, 2:18 AM

_image attached_

Sorry, idk how to add location.

*i don’t know

Wow, I’m so excited to finalyl meet you!

Hope we will get along well!

And I’m sry I can’t pick you up.

*sorry

My schedule hates me ㅠㅠ

It’s confusing—the way the man was correcting his own words that needn’t correction—but it must also be amusing enough that it keeps Jihoon standing in the middle of nowhere re-reading them over and over, to the point other passerby start giving him glances and discreet grunts due to his huge stuff occupying the walkway.

Typing the location in the image into the Map app on his own device, he’s led to a nicer-looking part of the city that gets him wondering if such a place exists—such a place with stunning mortared stone walls to segregate it from the chaotic outside world, such a place with security guards who will look at you funny as you _walk_ through the barrier gate, or look like they’re gonna call the police if you so much as do anything else but walk.

It’s a too easy bet that no residents here go by anything but cars—those overtaxed western brands with chauffeurs. Can’t relate.

Don’t get him started on the houses because he can’t be seeing it right. There’s no way these are _single_ houses he’s seeing. Just how much they have to make to be able to not just afford but actually live here?

Every single one—again, fenced—has some sort of add-ons and touches to show off individuality, and eventually wealth. Be it longer-than-necessary driveways, western-imported statues, elaborate fountains, you name it.

All and above that, he’s met with—another gate?

Jihoon checks his phone once more to make sure he’s on the right track, and he is. After much internal debate whether he should call the man aka his future husband or just proceed with what he has, he settles for the latter.

Relief floods his system to see that this second neighborhood doesn’t ooze of money as does the former despite both being on the high-end side, as in: their driveways come more reasonable lengths, and no statues or useless fountains, and the houses seem more functional—like the ones people actually live in, not just there to be pretentious and showy.

Going up to one of the last doors on the street, three times he knocks. And three times he fixes his hair until a yawn wins a way out of him. Jihoon knocks again.

_Is this a wrong house?_

But before he can hit the call button his phone pings.

 _What does he want now when I’m right at his door?_ Jihoon thinks, annoyed, as he swipes for the new messages.

**_Unknown_ **

Fri, Aug 16, 3:39 PM

The keys are under the yellow flower pot by the door btw.

*by the way

In case you don’t find me.

Just go take a look around the house firts.

With a sigh, Jihoon makes to add _unknown_ to his contact. The texts that keep coming, however, have his finger accidentally click on one of the notifications.

**_Unknown_ **

Fri, Aug 16, 3:41 PM

…

Idk if you even see this.

*i don’t know

Like am I talking to myself here?

Please say something if you do read this.

Jihoon types a curt ‘i do’ to satisfy the other and pockets his phone. _Let him be an unknown, he did that to himself._

_And what, he’s late on the very first meeting? Didn’t I just choose the best groom ever._

He has to heed the instruction _to the letter_ , because it’s not the one by the front door but the one by the backstairs. Took Jihoon whole five minutes looking for it.

If there’s gonna be someone to find it weird that a random stranger just straight walks up to their neighbor’s house and enters it on his own, it’s gotta be that uncle with his pipe down the street who retreats inside as soon as he’s caught staring. Jihoon decides to pay him no mind and get out of sight before there’s another witness to his ostensible crime.

Jihoon may not know much about interior design but if he were to give one comment, it’d be that this house is plain badly furnished. If he were to give another, it’d be that it’s full of _misplaced_ things. Never thought a house that appears remarkable huge on the outside can also give off this stuffy vibe on the inside.

The stairs creak awfully as he escorts himself up the second floor that dead splits into two small hallways, either side with a door at the end.

Behind the one beside a framed picture of tiger puzzle, dark purple wallpaper and black carpeted floor greet him, along with some kind of glittery space patterned pillowcases and duvet cover in matching purple. And a baby tiger plushie to top it off. Compare this to the first floor, this Kwon guy has some taste for a bedroom.

The bed looks comfy and inviting and it dips just the way Jihoon likes it when he sits down to feel the fabric which is also extremely soft. Imagining cocooning in there in a winter night with-

Agh, what. _Him?_

His spines are trampled by shivers and Jihoon soon realizes how _lived-in_ the room is, the missed little details coming back to taunt him in the face now. The man gets himself out of the room so fast he almost heads down the stairs instead of the opposite hallway unexplored. Thankfully it is another bedroom, or else he’d have really put the impromptu plan into action.

The one’s got wooden floor, forest green walls with one white side whose half the space is taken up by a couple of windows with earth tone curtains, and a white door for a bathroom.

Assured by the empty desk and closet, he throws himself on the white-sheeted bed which is expectedly smaller than that in the master bedroom but still bigger than Jihoon’s old one. The important part is it’s just as comfy. Maybe he’ll ask from where the guy got these mattresses one day, if they ever get friendly enough for that.

Still with no update from said man he’s supposed to meet, Jihoon lets his eyes droop, taking in the floral scent of the fabric softener in steady breaths. If this is what _every_ _other_ contract marriage entails, he’ll sure as hell become its advocate.

Alas will he finally get a goodnight sleep like everybody else, even if for a while.

Maybe he can get it now. While he waits.

When Jihoon startles himself awake it’s dark out, the sun having already set, yet still too quiet for anyone to have arrived. He goes out to take a good peek downstairs anyway.

_No lights on, quiet. Hmm…_

Arms resting on the rail with one hand supporting his chin and the other running through his hair, he unlocks his phone which fleeting blares at him a 10:23 before the screen redirects to the texting app he’s left on from earlier. Through squinty eyes Jihoon makes out a couple of new arrivals and blindly clicks on what he hopes is the one on top.

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Aug 16, 10:12 PM

arrived?

Fri, Aug 16, 10:24 PM

hmm

how’s the land

too big for two

bc it means to be fit with ppl

and i mean little ones

y’know

calm your family-oriented ass

how’s the landlord

hes not home yet

and why do you call him that

HOME. how domestic;))

-_-“

isnt today a fri r u ready

or i wouldn’t be texting you

won’t you wish me good luck

make lots

ohhh thanks<3

i told you not to heart me

you’ll be dearly missed

Jihoon rolls his eyes and stops entertaining the excited co-worker, exiting the text box only to see ‘the landlord’ has sent him something too.

**_Unknown_ **

Fri, Aug 16, 3:44 PM

Wow, you really replied!

Oh I really have to go now. sEe you soon!

Fri, Aug 16, 9:59 PM

I’m so sorry again ,I think I’ll be back late tonight.

Something came up.

Bad weather and stuff.

You know that messes up the flight schedule.

Plz have a goodnight.

*please

His mind goes ‘whatever’ and he switches on the flashlight on his phone. Not that he’s afraid of the dark but he’d rather not trip on thin air, _yet_ his not fully awake legs almost fails him going down to grab the luggage abandoned in the foyer anyway.

After stomping his way up and kicking the door shut, Jihoon settles on the bed again, not forgetting to kick off his shoes this time.

If he did keep a diary, today’s entry would be ‘one of the least productive days.’ On his defense, a day off like this doesn’t present itself every so often.

Besides, this bed is great.

His next morning starts early by being rudely snatched from dreamland and coerced into the bathroom by Seungkwan. He seriously dares the younger to do the exact same thing to him while not hiding behind the darn phone screen…

Only after being thawed by hot water does his brain start generating more rational questions like: ‘What time is it?’ in contrast to ‘Why’s the bed so comfy?’ and the like which were there when his mind was still in its woozy state.

Coming out with his hair still dripping wet, Jihoon can’t help his line of sight from traveling to the other side only to come to a stop at the white rectangular frame.

_How long would it take you on your own to be in a hallway as generous as this? You lucky ass Lee Jihoon._

His body follows his thought and soon the plane plain of wood is the only thing in his vision. He considers knocking even though it’s too quiet for anyone to have come home but just to check, already clearing away any creepy feeling from yesterday when the front door bell rings.

Greeted by one boy with a full cheeked smile and another with a semi-polite bow, he’s not surprised (but a little disappointed) none of them is a Kwon. But again, who would ring a bell of their own home?

 _(Well, Seungcheol hyung did once when he was pissed drunk and forgot the passcode,_ his mind supplies very helpfully.)

“We meet again, Lee Chan,” Jihoon says then pauses to take a sip of his morning coffee. They’re settled at the family room after the shortest has invited (just shrugged, really) them in, Seungkwan beside Jihoon who’s opposite from Chan. He does have his questions regarding several things but is not one to initiate unless being pushed. “It’s as if I was marrying you instead.”

Chan lets out quite a fit of laugher at that, explaining afterward, “You didn’t strike me as funny, Jihoon ssi. But that was good.” The boy seems to be having a good time so Jihoon lets him be. Once his unprofessional expression’s taken care of, Chan brings forth a brown envelope sliding it over. “I already added in what you asked for, but feel free to look it over before signing.”

And Jihoon takes his time reading—actually reading and not skimming like he’d normally do. His brows slowly come together as his eyes move along the lines.

In no time Boo Seungkwan, the one doing the skimming from the side, gasps, “Termination of the contract comes in _either_ of the two forms: one, a year after this document is made valid, two, mutual agreement to terminate this contract—whatever takes place first? And what, there’s even _allowance_ given out _weekly_? How much is he making really, this cousin of yours?!” Before anyone has any time to answer, exhilarated Seungkwan turns to Jihoon taking his hand in his. “If you’re shopping, this is a steal, Jihoon hyung! Do it!”

Jihoon who’s just finished going through the paper himself only pries his hand out of hold but doesn’t comment on it.

With his eyes still on Jihoon—Seungkwan’s not the one getting committed anyway—Chan takes it as his chance to answer, “If money is why you’re hesitating, I assure you there’s no need to be. Hyung’s making enough to be doing this.”

It could come out as arrogant but to Jihoon that isn’t the issue right now, and even though reassurance is never enough for things like this, it’s better than nothing—like how some see poop as better than fart, anything to hold on superior than empty air. But aren’t words essentially empty air too?

Both copies of the document are now complete and validated by the fingerprints of his thumb glaring red beneath that of Kwon Soonyoung’s, one of which Jihoon keeps for himself while the other is secured back into the brown envelope about to have another expedition to wherever Lee Chan takes it, to wherever it is that Kwon Soonyoung houses things of value and importance. Now Jihoon only has to figure that out.

Come to think about it, the moment it goes down should’ve been deemed as momentous—recorded in Guinness Book or something—for it sure is life-changing in a way Jihoon supposes he can guess if he tries. Thing is he never cares to.

The rest of the day is spent being maneuvered here and there by the one and only Boo Seungkwan buying stuff, each of which triggers off a raise of his brows—or so he thinks. Or so he very _hopes_.

As it turns out, his day doesn’t end there. Far from it, it’s barely started.

To give you an idea what he’s talking about, how believable is it that the day you meet your husband-to-be for the first time is also the day you’re doing something that hasn’t come across your mind until then like taking vows?

Is Jihoon in the wrong here for never having expected _any_ sort of grandeur such as a wedding? Aren’t they supposed to keep it as low key as possible as this all comes down to a pretense at its finest?

It’s nearing noon when Jihoon’s reinstated to the humble abode of the only Kwon he knows, it’s as he’s stepping on the stairs to store away the good-for-nothing penguin suit and some leather shoes when Jihoon feels the presence of _another_ _person._ And he sorta takes pride in being never wrong about this stuff, his point proved unconsciously by the woman materializing herself from the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are.”

All of a sudden Jihoon feels like he’ll be needing his energy—if anything, more on the mental side—about to ask who she is when she beats him to it.

“Jihoon, isn’t it…the one marrying my son?”

 _Well, that’s one way to put it,_ Jihoon stiffly nods, reversing his course of action until they’re level with each other—joke on him since they’re of similar heights; there would’ve been some perceptible difference if it weren’t for those heels of hers damnit.

It never occurred to him that the guy’s mother could arrive before the guy himself, so don’t blame him if he doesn’t know what to do, less what he’s supposed to do.

What surprises him is who he supposes to be his future immediate-in-law manages to never look awkward even in a situation as awkward as this. Kudos to her.

“I heard the name and just thought you’d be like--I don’t know, more masculine?” she’s saying, must’ve taken the lack of response on Jihoon’s part to be out of deference? “Anyway, you must’ve been wondering who I am. I’m Soonyoung’s mother, Jung Seonhwa. Just call me Mrs Jung.”

“Yes, Mrs Jung,” Jihoon says just to be sarcastic. She doesn’t seem to get it though, merely beckons him to come closer. He gingerly does.

Her eyes travel down to his hand, then she nods, as if in acknowledgement. “I see you’ve just picked out your attire for the ceremony. Good for you though, I understand Soonyoungie can be very spontaneous sometimes.”

_Ceremony? No, wait, why’s she talking as if-_

“Just so you know, Soonyoung’s appa and I have separated therefore it’ll be just me,” for no reason at all she’s in the dining room, inspecting and feeling the curtains, her hair in chignon facing him. And when she turns, she brings back with her the most malicious question of all: “When’re your parents arriving though? I thought Soonyoung took care of delivering the news?”

_And I thought Soonyoung also took care of informing you about how they won’t be arriving, ever?_

The fact that he’s an orphan half the years he’s been living never gets to him—Jihoon doesn’t allow it to.

Again, his lack of response is effortlessly ignored, the woman moving on with the one-side conversation.

Some time later, she’s finally finished with, he thinks, how she’s carefully planned out the changing of the whole floor’s window hangings to the new set of _this-really-beautiful-green linin curtains that she’s making_ instead of how the house urgently needs an elimination of excessive furnishings; and now her attention is unfortunately back on Jihoon, not some Victorian tea cup she’s taken its whole set out of the cupboard just to check out the pattern.

His guess is, she’s doing this because she’s disappointed her son ‘supposedly’ turns out to be gay. The only thing deserving of his flying fig is whether the son turns out to be like his mother, because Jihoon doesn’t know for how much longer he can tolerate this gibberish before-

“Eomma?”

A voice of the son saves his mother, how fortunate of her.

Jihoon takes in the sight of slanted eyes—right side slightly more than the other—then button nose, sharp jawline, and can’t forget the wholesome cheeks. Is it weird that he finds these seemingly contrasting features can contribute to wholeness when combined in one face? In short, the guy is quite good-looking and that’s _just_ _a_ _little_ over Jihoon’s expectation.

Of course the mother is by her son’s side in no time, _fussing_ over his wrinkled clothes. “Adeul! How’s Australia? Aren’t you tired? When did you get here?”

 _Why ask the obvious?_ Jihoon muses unamused, decides he’ll watch the interaction as a mute.

“Eomma, how many times already? It’s _Austria_ , not Australia,” retorts Soonyoung playfully and both laugh. At least the son knows how to handle his own mother, thank goodness. “And isn’t that why I’m home? I got here just now, sped the highway the police were all giving me glares cuz I almost ran into a roadsign!”

The mother hits her son lightly on the shoulder. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying. We can take it slow and postpose the wedding to another date, you know. I’m sure your aunties and uncles won’t mind staying in Seoul for another week.”

“It’s okay, eomma. I already checked and everything’s coming along fine. Everyone will be there.”

It’s these small details like how not a single question is missed that triggers Jihoon into thinking there’s definitely something the guy isn’t saying.

“Hey, can we talk?”

His sudden blurt causes Soonyoung to look at him, then back at his mother who gives him an approval nod of some sort, before back to Jihoon, this time giving out a cheerful nod. “Sure, why not?”

Jihoon’s dragging him away before the last syllable is even out, up the stairs to his room where he hurls the bags onto the white bed. Noticing a thick dent their threads have left on his fingers only does the opposite of calming him down.

“What was that about? I thought we agreed on no extravaganza?” he all but yells as soon as the door’s closed behind them.

Soonyoung looks truly apologetic, like a child getting scolded. “Ah my apologies but, you see here, since it’s obvious we aren’t gonna register our marriage, Mom—and I mean, any of my relatives really— _insist_ we do a wedding.”

 _Like I care_. “Does it make a difference?” Jihoon doesn’t bother with his own non-presentable look.

A sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. My uncles can be very vocal, and you don’t wanna know what my aunties are capable of when they come together and set their minds to something.”

 _Sure sounds like one traditional family I’ve gotten myself into. At least they don’t sound_ that _patriarchal somewhat._

“It’ll be a small one, still! Just friends and family-”

“But isn’t all wedding?” Jihoon deadpans to counter the taller brightening up, but to no avail as Soonyoung continues with no less spirit.

“All will be over before you know it, you have my word!”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Yes, Sir Jihoon. Will keep that in mind!”

They share a moment of silence before Jihoon too lets out a sigh. “What’s in it for me? Anything I have to-”

“Oh you’ve done enough by being here,” Soonyoung clasps him briefly on the shoulder, grin wide enough it could fit a whole plate. “Just rest assured and leave all that to me.”

If yesterday has taught Jihoon something, it’s that he’s not to count on them too much. Those empty words.

After the other’s left Jihoon to change, he gathers himself enough to not forget to send out a _target confirmed_ to someone already having waited to hear from him for a whole day or more.

Three p.m. of a day in the scorching summer finds Jihoon either facing or avoiding this brightly-lit-he-could-beat-the-sun guy.

With the ceremony _simply_ set in the backyard, Jihoon would admit it to be pretty cute as well were it not his own marriage we’re talking about.

Much to his surprise, not all guests are invited; it’s just _so_ coincidental that it’s the weekend thus not so little number of passing-by idle neighbors are here, in casual clothes and whatnot, which only adds to his embarrassment list.

Aren’t they supposed to keep this as low-profile as possible? Who would’ve thought he is marrying an idiot.

Though, Kwon Soonyoung’s ability to get everything ready to roll in such limited time is commendable, Jihoon’ll give him that much credit. But really, who is this guy? If he’d just landed like he claimed to be, shouldn’t he at least be affected by jetlag? Or is that not a thing anymore for someone who relocates often?

After many dreading (at least to Jihoon) yeses—he didn’t register what he was agreeing to—it finally dawns on Jihoon that they’re gonna be exchanging rings.

_Ah crap._

In spite of Jihoon’s rising panic, Chan agilely appears at their side and unfolds the white cloth in his hold, revealing two almost-identical rockless bands: one navy blue, the other…rose gold? Apparently they were prepared by Soonyoung who’s looking at him rather funny as if nonverbally asking which color he’d like. Ridiculous, right?

Picking up the rose gold one, Jihoon swiftly slips it on the other’s right ring finger—which he finds to be very chubby and soft, it takes all of him not to squish right then and there to test its resilience. Soonyoung does the same for him with the other ring.

The navy blue catches the gloaming light and glisters so prettily, yet is cold and loose against his skin.

That’s okay, Jihoon thinks as he admires the unexpected beauty, he can switch it to the thumb later or just not wear it altogether. No one has a say on whether or not he wears his wedding band anyway.

Then it’s time for what people would’ve _normally_ been anticipating: a kiss to seal the deal.

Except their kind of deal is heavier than usual.

With the (uninvited) neighbors cheers getting louder and more demanding by the minute, Jihoon looks up and their eyes meet for a split of a second before averting into different directions again.

After a full exhale, Jihoon deems himself done with the mental preparation. Using the chance while everyone’s cooing, he gives Soonyoung’s jacket a discreet tug to get the calculated outcome: a forehead kiss that looks like it’s initiated by the taller, when in reality it’s the other way around—in hope that’ll please the guests (shut them up), only to be met with disappointed groans.

However, before Jihoon can turn to look daggers at them nosy people, he’s gently glided by the jaw and his cheek feels flesh. Soft. Fleeting.

With Soonyoung’s hands obstructing the view, it more or less creates an illusion that what they suppose it is has landed where it’s supposed to land—Soonyoung’s even angling his own head sideway and closing his eyes during, though Jihoon doubts it’s intentional.

Granted that there was no kiss, not even a peck, but nuzzling of nose tips, why does Jihoon find his neck in a state more feverish than he’d like?

Granted that he didn’t mentally prepare himself for _that_ , there’s no denying Jihoon’s fairly caught off guard by the make-believe kiss.

Still, he has to pretend _not_ to be as Mrs Jung—now his mother by law—is gazing at them from the side with a sickeningly sweet and sentimental smile that reaches her eyes. Jihoon bets she’s crying too. Tears of happiness. This woman confuses him just as much as her son.

Which gets him wondering whether his own mother is doing the same from wherever she might be, and whether it’s also tears of happiness or the complete opposite.

The theme is casual—as casual as it could be with a portion of the guests in their forties, fifties, and so on—therefore, after they’re done with all formalities, it goes straight to reception which is mainly eating, where Soonyoung’s surprised no one anymore by having organized a buffet with adequate variety of foods and drinks. So much for a simple thing.

Done changing into more comfortable but still presentable clothes, and even though his bed’s right there all alluring, Jihoon knows better he’s expected downstairs. But once the door’s opened, he’s met with someone he hasn’t expected instead.

“Could I have a word with you? It won’t take long.”

Perplexed Jihoon can only blink back.

“There you are!” Soonyoung calls as soon as _one_ of Jihoon’s feet meets the first floor, hand catching hold of the smaller’s elbow. “I was starting to think you’ve ditched me by jumping off the window or something.”

Not sure whether that was supposed to be a joke or Soonyoung was really serious, Jihoon pointedly dismisses it. “Let’s just get this done quickly.”

“I think I’ll be acquaintances with most of your character by the end of today,” Soonyoung speaks with such buoyancy in him it’s questionable where he’s got all the energy, but before Jihoon can tell him off the man’s switching from clinging onto his elbow to offering him one of his own. “Shall we?”

Humiliation is out of the question since there’s no one around to witness the rejection so Jihoon has to ask himself, why’d he do it?

 _It’d be stupid to take it but it’d also be stupid not to_ , he tries. _People will ask questions, so better shut them up with action. Yes, that._

In tandem, they return to the yard going around greeting the elders. The thing is you pick anyone, and they’ll turn out to be either a middle-age or outright senior citizen.

While it’s not like Jihoon leaves the conversing part to Soonyoung on purpose, it’s just that Jihoon doesn’t do excellently with strangers, plus Soonyoung’s apparently better at coming up with on-the-spot lies—praise for sly tongue of his that skillfully twists and swerves through these little details they get asked like: who confessed attraction first, who paid on the first date, or who proposed. The man seems more than willing to do so anyway; he seems happy to be talking.

A strong sense of pity and empathy wafts through him then. Must suck for those who get married for real like, they _do_ have to be all prim and proper to all these strangers they’ll most likely meet once or twice in their life anyway. In Jihoon’s case he even has the choice not to.

But even in the thick of all things, he can’t help noticing the way his hand that’s holding on to the crook of Soonyoung’s elbow gets a gentle pat by said man every damn time someone so much as mentions Jihoon’s name, as though Soonyoung’s trying to involve him in the conversation, which isn’t working out very well for obvious reasons.

Another thing that sticks in his memory is this ahjussi’s open ‘opinion’ about: the memorial service duty that’s become Soonyoung’s by default since he’s his mother’s—the oldest of all siblings—first and only son, and of age; _and_ how nice it will be now that the boy’s got some helping hand.

Family matters may be new to him—an unprecedented territory and bizarre concept, he’d say—but hey, correct him if he’s wrong, isn’t a married woman’s duty always towards her husband’s family? Are Soonyoung’s parents _divorced_ then?

More greetings come and go in a blur. All Jihoon remembers doing is being there, giving a few nods in between when appropriate, and wrap it in a ribbon with a ninety-degrees bow, though a hand that finds a place on the small of his back at their every time bowing is starting to get under his skin.

Jihoon hasn’t known anyone with a penchant to be this clingy—or hasn’t allowed anyone to be with him. Maybe a deck to the shin will do the man some good but again, all comes and goes in a blur and before Jihoon knows it, Soonyoung’s looking at him with expectant eyes.

“Jihoon?” From the tone, this must not be his first time calling it. Calling him. “You wanna come with?”

“What?” he says coolly, like he hasn’t been spacing out.

Soonyoung’s already noticed it anyway and says as much. “I see your soul’s leaving you. We’re done here.”

Jihoon scowls. “Why’re you still here then?”

Soonyoung doesn’t reply to that but merely looks down causing Jihoon to do the same, and unwind his arm from the other’s real fast. A hearty chuckle that follows sounds mocking to Jihoon even though he knows it isn’t meant to be.

“I’ll go get something to drink then.” Like that the bubbly man’s off, to his group of friends of whoever.

Once detached, Jihoon himself is almost instantly dragged aside by his own ~~friend~~ betrayer before one of the many in-law oldies can.

(He manages to catch Soonyoung, in the middle of a group of people their age, staring at him from over the courtyard and looking immediately away when caught. So not creepy.)

It’s time someone deserves a punch so Jihoon gives him one—an exclusively hard one.

“Ow! Hyung? What the—”

“That’s for lying to me.”

Seungkwan raises a hand as if to return the favor but Jihoon knows he’d never. “I said he was _a_ cousin. How’s that a lie?!”

Jihoon rolls eyes at him in ill humor. “Really, you’re gonna be a smartass to me?”

“Chan said the exact same thing to me and I thought: ‘oh, of course he should be someone’s cousin that’s fine,’” Seungkwan retorts albeit weakly.

“So Chan’s your high-school friend? Trustworthy?”

“Oh my gosh, hyung, what do you take me for?”

Jihoon attempts for another hit, having the younger duck for his life, but figures he’d just be wasting energy—what’s done cannot be undone anyway—so eventually his hand drops.

“Anyway, _dude_ what was that kiss about? I thought you weren’t in for this,” the young manager moves to straighten his jacket with a stage cough. Of course Boo Seungkwan is all for gossips and tea which Jihoon isn’t interested in spilling. (There’s none to!)

“Yeah, and now you can look forward to a sexual assault report, thank you very much,” Jihoon deadpans back.

“Oh, hyung, don’t talk like you’re the only victim. I saw it. The first forehead kiss was all you.”

He groans for being caught, and other things. “If it weren’t for those nosy motherfuckers-”

“ _Language_ , _young_ _man_. Your mother-in-law won’t like that,” says a third voice, to which Jihoon and Seungkwan turn their heads.

Apparently Minghao has successfully avoided his boyfriend from causing a scene at the buffet table because ‘why are there no sausages?’

The trouble-seeker, who’s made his presence known as soon as he’s out of the stylist’s grip, is now laughing hysterically with Seungkwan. The two of them have been having too much fun teasing Jihoon for having to concern for more than one head.

Aside him and Soonyoung—that’s a given—it’s supposed to only be Seungkwan and Chan who know of the fakeness of the marriage for they are the initiators—the ones that brought the ludicrous idea to life. Which means that neither of the Chinese knows and Jihoon intends for it to stay that way, which means that Seungkwan spending time with either of these two is absolutely not encouraged.

Jihoon can feel the gears in his head turning while trying to come up with something to lure Seungkwan away, for now he settles for remarking dryly. “What’d you even know about mother-in-laws.”

“I will,” Junhui replies, directing this at his boyfriend whose shoulder he wraps an arm around. “Soon enough.”

There wasn’t any bouquet thrown but now Jihoon starts to think if there were, Junhui might’ve done anything for it.

And when blushing Minghao scowls at his boyfriend but doesn’t push him away, Jihoon concludes he’ll never understand the dynamic of their relationship.

“Seriously though, I’m sure all she cares about is marrying off her rich-ass son, which is done now,” it’s Seungkwan’s turn to comment, a hand on his hip. “How to be you, hyung?” he adds in a dreamy tone.

 _Wasn’t it you who thrust this mess to me?_ Jihoon wants to pierce his ears with that but at the same time, what good will it do now. Then his eyes widen as he finds something of value in the background.

He starts calmly, pointing to the buffet tables. “Hey, you might wanna go entertain that Hansol over there. He looks pretty lost.”

“What?! Where?!” Seungkwan the Temporary Fish takes the bait as expected, immediately scurrying off to tend to the crush of his life.

“One really nice husband you’ve got there, Jihoon,” Junhui mentions when they’re down to three people. “Where’d you even find these kinda eligible bachelors, may I ask?” A glare he gets from Minghao (and probably a pinch on the side, too) is deserving.

When it’s obvious he isn’t gonna get any reaction from Jihoon, Junhui continues zestfully, “Why don’t you introduce us? We kinda wanna meet him, and I think his friends share the sentiment.”

Minghao doesn’t make to protest, meaning he agrees on the ‘we’ part.

But even before anyone of them can think of saying ‘speak of the devil,’ the devil and his associates have decided to make themselves their unsought guests. At least the torchbearer isn’t Soonyoung who appears rather as dumbfounded as to how he’s gotten here.

Still, he’s the one who sets the dialogue in motion when no one of their respective circles does. “Jihoon ssi, I—”

“Eyyy~”

“What’s this clownery, Kwon Soonyoung!”

“Where’s that affectionate name you were calling him back there?!”

It’s like domino effect, one disapproving call triggering others. Soonyoung’s friends are smacking him playfully on the back, some on the shoulder, and the man himself returns some of the favors before straightening up again.

Sensing no funny business looming, Jihoon beats him to it by speaking up first. “What, Soonyoung?”

Said man’s momentarily stupefied and, a spectacle that Soonyoung is and Jihoon is not, the outset of their exchange is no doubt gathering interest from around them.

“I’ve repeatedly told them off but my friends here kept wondering if, um, you will dance against me?” Soonyoung pushes out in one breath, hand shooting up to scratch at fluffy hair. “Ah that came out wrong—I mean to say—let’s battle dance?”

 _Random_ , Jihoon didn’t mean to say that aloud but from the reaction of surprised eyes, he most likely did.

This time humiliation is definitely in the question since there’re more than enough lives to witness the rejection and Jihoon has to ask himself, why’d he think it a good idea to-

“I don’t dance,” he says, as flatly as possible—accompany it with innocent blinks and there you get the recipe for a perfect lie.

Because the thing is, he does. He just isn’t confident whether-

“What are you talking about? You _do_ dance!” Junhui chimes in untimely and Jihoon assaults him on the feet, earning a string of muffled curses—courtesy of Minghao who has great senses and shields his mouth.

“Y-yah, see? What’d I tell you guys,” Soonyoung turns back to convince his seemingly unconvinced friends but his face is red for some reason that Jihoon doesn’t wish to know. “Now leave him alone and…” The rest of the sentence is too faint to be heard as the man’s led his group back to where they were before.

“Better keep a lid on that mouth if you wanna live, Wen,” Jihoon addresses the culprit then turning to the poor boyfriend. “Xu, take him home when it’s time, will you?”

“As if I can get drunk by plain water here,” Junhui grumbles but can’t keep up with Jihoon’s glare on him. “I’ll behave, Momma,” he mocks.

“Quit it,” Jihoon warns but without bite one last time, and is off.

It shouldn’t have been about five minutes he’s on the chair before someone invites themselves to be his unwanted company again.

“Mr Lee, right?”

Jihoon looks up expecting another old man who’ll blather some filial responsibility rubbish, but is met with a young man who’s got deep cold eyes behind those round spectacles and overall handsome face. And Jihoon would be lying to say he is not in the slightest bit mesmerized.

The tall guy introduces himself as Jeon Wonwoo, Soonyoung’s best friend and co-worker, and Jihoon thinks he wasn’t with Soonyoung’s group back there but nonetheless bears in mind the detail.

Wonwoo takes a seat next to him when Jihoon doesn’t utter a word more. Must be something about the deep charming voice or the way the man talks but Jihoon doesn’t feel like telling him off, even when the conversation’s going to be all the same.

But maybe not all the same, since it’s more like Wonwoo’s there to _converse_ , to tell stories about his best friend—or dis him rather, which verifies his claim of the best friend position—and a lot less like Jihoon’s private life is being butchered twisting around in a sense that he doesn’t have any say in it.

The man says a few things about himself as well, like how he’s a cat person or how video games is his life that he plans on opening his own cat café that’s also a PC bang within, goes on to talk about how Soonyoung’s just _so_ _bad_ —sucks, Jihoon thinks he means to say—at gaming it’s the one thing they don’t click, or one of several.

Labeled a bookworm by his best friend, Wonwoo counters it’s just that Soonyoung reads too little even for an average person. His way of reminding Soonyoung to talk a little bit less hasn’t worked so far and Jihoon surprises himself by agreeing.

Yet, Wonwoo adds, it’s not to say that Soonyoung’s bad at studying. The guy can be quite good when he sets his mind to it. He’s more like, a fiery ball that burns out quickly.

In whatever ways Jihoon looks at it, these two besties are more like polar opposites which, they say, attract.

But then so are _them_.

Jihoon ignores the thought.

After some time the Jeon Wonwoo guy politely excuses himself despite their flowing conversation. Even then Jihoon finds himself rooted to the chair even with his initial half-heated plan of going to his bedroom to sleep it off.

Just as he’s is getting comfortable, eyes drooping, another person comes up to him from the side. Someone small. A little girl.

“Can you help me with this?” the girl holding out a cold can of coke says in a small voice. She’s got that trademark adorable cheeks that one doesn’t have to guess to know whose relative she is.

“Sure,” Jihoon accepts the can.

No one (in their right mind) can decline a kid and Jihoon is no exception, though his brain’s going off to self-conflict how it’s not healthy for such a young one to drink all of that herself. But she can just be doing a favor for a grown-up, so.

A ‘hmm’ he lets out when the little girl refuses to take back the can he’s popped open is too childlike than he intended.

“It’s for you. From Horangie samchon.”

His assumption turns out to be right: she’s indeed being a good girl helping an adult out—just not in the way he’d expected. And what’s with the name? “Ho Rangyi samchon?”

The girl merely runs away without another explanation, leaving Jihoon even more confused until he notices something peeking out from the can’s bottom: a neon-yellow sticky note with some scrawls, ink blotched due to the condensation but he makes do with it.

I’d like to apologiz abuot earlier.

-Soonyoung

Typos are becoming one of the man’s traits now though Jihoon really didn’t see it coming. Such childish action. It makes him chuckle nonetheless. Some may call it being a pussy, he finds it cute. Somewhat immature but cute.

Yet Jihoon doesn’t know what to do. Downing the drink would be equivalent to accepting the guy’s apology and just overall _him_ , and guilt will sure be piling up his throat sooner or later.

Jihoon takes a sip _because_ he’s thirsty. It’s his favorite drink after all.

There’s a saying in Chinese that translates to something along: ‘In this world, there isn’t any banquet that will never end.’ Jihoon’s glad this one is not an exception.

A few more nameless ladies and gentlemen—they do introduce themselves, Jihoon just doesn’t care too remember—take him aside after the soft drink incident, but nothing he can’t handle, just needs to make sure their stories match and Soonyoung’s gone through with his make-up story enough times for Jihoon to have memorized it. Must be the caffeine.

He’s never taken notice of his phone till now, which is after having received wedding blessings and bid farewells to all the in-laws—thank all the good things in the world no one requested to stay overnight because he’d heard some of them really flew from across the country—and some nearby residents who’d really stayed throughout the whole thing.

If anything’s more awkward than standing in tandem with your newlywed spouse who you barely know while simultaneously tuning out well-intentioned advice and wishes being bestowed upon them, it’s right now: when it’s gonna be truly just the two of them in this too big house.

Soonyoung is currently walking out his mother and very likely chatting with her some more, persuading her to stay the night—by politeness, he hopes—so Jihoon deems it a good time to answer the persistent caller. “What do you want?”

_“We know why I called.”_

“Draining day, you could never guess,” Jihoon checks behind his back just to make sure. “Nothing out of ordinary. Why do you think it’s him again?”

 _“You mentioned promotion and it’s only his fourth year. Just keep an eye. You know to update me anything, right?”_ There’s a pause. _“And, still nothing from my side too.”_

Though the other can’t see him, Jihoon unconsciously nods, already used to the answer, about to hang up when another response slips through.

_“Oh, and Jihoon.”_

“Yeah?”

 _“Congrats, sorry I couldn’t go,”_ a heavy exhale. _“And be careful, like always.”_

“Likewise. Thanks.”

“Who was that?”

“F-”

Shit right, he almost forgot. Or he already did.

“Just someone,” Jihoon says like he wasn’t about to curse out of habit. He really needs to quit that because biting tongue isn’t always gonna work every time. It hurts like a bitch too.

“That I met today? Was it-”

“No, he didn’t,” _couldn’t_ , “come,” Jihoon cuts him before another unnecessary rant comes his way. He’s been resisting more yawns than he’d have liked. “I’m calling it a day,” he says.

“It has indeed been a day,” Soonyoung agrees, then adds in a shout even when there’s no need to as it’s dead silent both in and outside. “Don’t forget to introduce us some other time!”

And Jihoon doesn’t bother looking back and just continues up the stairs.

_Don’t worry, the day won’t come._


	2. Philanthropic freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling her about Soonyoung, just like how he doesn’t tell Seungcheol. It’s just a temporary thing that will be over and they’ll go back to their own respective lives, hopefully sooner than later. Soonyoung gets what he wants, so does Jihoon.  
> But what is it that he wants? Money, really?

“Heard Kyunggeun sunbae actually had you do the landing,” Wonwoo mentions the one who’s left as Soonyoung’s entering the break room. “Congrats, he was just telling Myungshik sunbae how you’re doing better.”

“Thanks,” says Soonyoung quietly, making to put away his luggage. Sometimes the man’s like that with attention, especially when he thinks himself undeserving of it. All shy and flustered. “I’m still far from prepared. For the test, I mean.”

“You will be. Just keep it up,” Wonwoo encourages, thinking about another topic he could go for. “And can’t believe I’m saying this but, this is the least miserable I’ve seen you since like, we started here.”

“I joined the married crew like last week?” And there returns the Soonyoung who takes everything lightheartedly. Wonwoo raises his hand ready to throw the cardboard bookmark but the man quickly raises his own to effectively halt his best friend. “I know you’re gonna say, like, ‘ _It’s_ _contract_ _marriage_ ,’ but for once can’t you at the very least _pretend_ to be happy for me?”

“I’m happy if you are.” Wonwoo does mean it despite his deadpan tone, though he can’t care less whether his sincerity’s reached the other anyway. “Doesn’t change my opinion about the whole thing. Especially the part where you had to lie to your mom.”

“It’s for her own happiness! You know she’d been waiting for that day for _years_. Didn’t you see her cry?”

“One day her son called out of a clear blue sky to say ‘Hey mom, I’m getting married next week. Please be there.’ Despite him having showed no interest in commitment whatsoever and failed _every_ blind date she painstakingly set him up. How could she not doubt a thing?” Wonwoo knows that’s such a rhetorical thing to ask, but feels the need to lay out his theory once again in case there’s anything he’s missed.

“I’m telling you, like mother like son,” Soonyoung replies half-jokingly, walking over to the coffee machine to brew two mugs.

“There’s no such expression,” Wonwoo snorts at his happy-go-lucky colleague but puts a pause to his reading anyway. “I’d say it’s the fortunetellers. How much did those appointments cost her again?”

“She wouldn’t tell me the real prize, never asked me for extra either, so I guess it’s nothing she couldn’t handle,” Soonyoung makes a point with a shrug before handing over a mug which is received with a nod that implies ‘thanks.’

“Speaking of doubt,” Wonwoo starts again after a few warm sips. “That Lee guy.”

“Lee Jihoon ssi?” Soonyoung perks up at the plain mention of his dummy fill-in of a spouse. “Not that I don’t trust Dino but you’re always better than me at judging people, so, what’s your thought?”

“I’m better than you at anything.” That earns him a kick in the shin. “He’s okay,” he slips out.

Thankfully Soonyoung seems to have caught it, the abuse of his leg muscle finally coming to a stop. “Okay how?”

Wonwoo takes his time to sip his coffee as revenge for earlier. “…That I actually considered changing a best friend?”

“Yah!” Another abuse of strength only ceases once the man fully catches on to the other’s words. “But wait, for someone to have your ‘okay’ mustn’t he be—ace?”

Wonwoo merely nods behind his mug and Soonyoung internally curses the guy for the action actually screams ‘intellectual.’ “Only one thing: his _actual_ incentive.”

That gets Soonyoung blinking. “What are you saying?”

“I doubt your fake husband’s doing this for money,” Wonwoo explains.

“And _what_ are you saying?”

 _Damn him and his impatience—or dumbness_ , he gives him a roll of his eyes; Soonyoung kindly returns the favor.

“When I was talking to him, on the wedding day, he appeared”—Wonwoo scratches his chin in search for words—“far too interested in your work. So I diverted the topic to how you suck at gaming.” He decides to dodge the other this time, having had enough beating for the day. “In all seriousness though, don’t you find it weird he agreed to the ridiculous arrangement without any addition condition or question? I do.”

“He _did_ have an additional condition of moving into my house. But that only makes sense since we’re _supposed_ to be married and-”

“Married couples _can_ not live together.”

“ _Newly_ married, happy?” Soonyoung fixes him a look, making to cross his legs and leaning back with his arm spread wide. “And you know how my mom’s like—she’s gonna show up unannounced, and it’d be such a terrible pretense if he wasn’t even living there.” Wonwoo won’t disagree with that.

“But what are you gonna say about separate bedrooms?” he prompts.

“Don’t let her find out then- oh!” Soonyoung’s eyes widen so comically as he starts clapping like a circus seal. “Right, I should probably tell Jihoon ssi to lock his room just in case. Thanks, Wonu.”

Soonyoung continues after some quick typing on his phone, “I mean, it must sting one’s pride to directly ask for money of others, don’t you think? Or maybe Jihoon ssi’s just big-hearted, doing this”—Wonwoo opens his mouth but isn’t allowed his interruption—“simply out of compassion you know. Try think simple, Jeon Wonwoo!”

At times like these is Wonwoo reminded of his best friend’s naiveté and just lack of judgment in general.

“Just be careful, Soons. Not everybody is a philanthropic freak like you,” he settles on that, adding more softly when his idiot of a best friend doesn’t look any less dejected. “I’m just saying this as no one but your best friend. If Mr Lee Jihoon turns out to be nothing I said today, that’s good.”

“If it’s any moral support, it’s my cousin whom I trust, not some random friend of his friend,” Soonyoung says ever so cheekily, but a sigh escapes his lips anyway. “And I know, Won. Wish the best for you, too… Heard that tall cute Mingyu kinda has hearteyes for you?”

“No, he doesn’t!” Wonwoo throws him the bookmark and goes back to his reading, but Soonyoung knows better his best friend’s just blushing away behind the paper.

**_Wen_ **

Thu, Aug 22, 5:39 AM

my heart’s broken </3

Thu, Aug 22, 6:01 AM

who started it this time

wanna try switch partners?

Thu, Aug 22, 6:10 AM

lol what happened

thought you were heartbroken

not anymore we’re good now

just minor arg

so what hAPPENED

Thu, Aug 22, 6:15 AM

nothing

why would a newlywed wanna trade partner hmmm

mind your own life

wooo feisty

it’s only right you treat us to hanwoo sometimes y’know

now that you’re married to one rich ass mf

Thu, Aug 22, 6:23 AM

shut up

well i think i know why

is landlord a disappointment in bed?

imma block you

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Thu, Aug 22, 6:26 AM

plz don’t jihoon, i’m sorry

He didn’t expect being fake married to be easy, but he _positively_ didn’t expect it to be this much of a headache either.

Even though Jihoon makes sure they see of each other as little as possible—as in he’d be out of the house sometime before noon and back at two or three in the morning of the next day—things, especially those that sound beautiful and practical, are oftentimes easier said than done.

Not only is Soonyoung’s flight schedule irregular as could be, he also learns that on free days, the man profoundly enjoys going outdoor and just being in the sun.

It could be something simple like going running around the neighborhood or walking someone’s dog; or it could be something fancier than that like going bicycling along the Han River or hiking. Especially hiking.

Funny thing is, it didn’t even require a tad of stalking on Jihoon’s part to learn all this; Soonyoung merely makes sure to personally invite Jihoon at every goddamn occasion possible. Jihoon’s made him disappointed a figurative thousand times already but the invitations keep on coming.

Anyway, days like those are a blessing.

However, on free days that Soonyoung does _not_ go out—normally it’s just him waking up from a good eight-hour sleep in the wrong time of the day due to freaking time zones—it means the man gets to bother Jihoon (despite his so-called fool-proof schedule) with something along:

“Jihoon ssi, can you help me find this one piece? I’ve been looking for it since last week.”

(Jihoon thinks it funny that such a disorganized person can sport such an orderly hobby as _doing_ _puzzles_ , has voiced it out once to which Soonyoung’s replied:

“I guess it calms my normally erratic mind, to force it to concentrate on just one thing: finding that exact little part.” The guy pauses to grin. “Of course it usually takes me weeks to finish one whole piece, sometimes even months with how packed my schedule has become lately.”

There’re those unfinished on one of the dining tables, the guest one in the dining room, that it gets Jihoon wondering if Soonyoung’s two of them just for this reason.)

And Jihoon doesn’t blame him for that. The less he’s home the better); or

“Woah, Jihoon ssi, where did you get that shirt from?”

(It’s just another of his black collection so Jihoon doesn’t know if the guy was just trying to cheer him up or being sarcastic or what. He ignores him); or

“Jihoon ssi, would you like to go hike with me this weekend? I just read the weather won’t be so bad.”

(Again, so far Jihoon’s never taken up any invitation. The outdoor and Lee Jihoon just aren’t a compatible combination. His belief was intensified by that one time Soonyoung came back pretty unrecognizable—as in a shade tanner—because he forgot to put on sun screen); or

“Jihoon ssi, did you know that there’re more tigers kept as pet than there’re in the wild?”

(Of course he doesn’t, but does he have to?); and even-

“Jihoon ssi, did you eat?!”

It shouldn’t catch Jihoon off guard anymore by now, how Soonyoung always shows up as he pleases, but it does. Jihoon was getting ready to head out, very much minding his own business, when the shout fills the house.

So Jihoon takes his time turning to face the owner of the repellent noise. “I’ll eat on the way.”

“But I’m craving ramyun. Will you have some with me?”

Jihoon glares at him in question until a pout replaces the whine.

“Okay okay, _I’m_ _sorry_. You can blame my homesickness.”

Something inside Jihoon softens at the other’s last word. He’s about to give in but Soonyoung’s faster, he always is, and beats him to it with:

“Do you need a ride?”

“No,” is his immediate reply.

Jihoon leaves the house ignoring the certain feeling of a stare on his back, typing a text as soon as he’s out.

**_Boo_ **

Thu, Aug 22, 11:48 PM

hey how do you make people uninterested in you

Why are you asking ME?

And what kinda question is that

Wdym like

Oh wait I get it

cuz Hansol never notices your big fat crush after years

How to have people ignore you?

oh okay

YOU DIDNT JUST

Thu, Aug 22, 12:13 PM

well?

Your apology first my answer second

nvm ill go ask someone else

Thu, Aug 22, 12:17 PM

I don’t think you need to

From how *much of a jerk* you are

Just saying

Thu, Aug 22, 4:02 PM

yeah thats why this is just odd

What is?

Are you doing this just to spite me?

Thu, Aug 22, 4:16 PM

The cliff hanging (¬_¬)

Spotting the short male plopping down on the couch in the back of the buzzing dressing room, Junhui swiftly gives last-minute advice to a couple of newbies sending them off to their first stage before approaching said male who now has a laptop Junhui didn’t notice earlier on his lap.

“Hey Jihoon, where you at yesterday?”

“Caught a flu from your landlord,” Jihoon replies as his throat allows.

Barely two weeks into it and he misses being single. When he still lived with Seungcheol, at least the older knows to follow the sanitation protocol.

“ _Careful_ with your choice of words. _You’ll make more than one person jealous,_ ” Junhui says all wiggly brows which Jihoon tries his best to ignore. “By the way, to have done so, you must’ve been quite close to him, and I mean _physically_ very close…”

“Go blame the guy who sneezes _whenever_ — _wherever_ —he feels like.” He would send the taller male more than just a dark glare if he wasn’t wheezing out coughs at the moment himself.

“ _The_ _guy?_ ”

“…I mean Soonyoung.”

Jihoon mentally curses himself for catching on a beat too late, replying two beats too late. Great, now Wen Junhui is looking at him funny.

“I dunno,” Junhui cocks a brow, turning to the only other person in the room. “What do husbands call each other these days, Haohao?”

Minghao glances swiftly at Jihoon to gauge the older’s reaction then back at his boyfriend. “They can call each other whatever they want, why do you care,” the stylist says—Jihoon’s more than thankful for the younger’s I-couldn’t-care-less tone—then turns back to the rack of clothes. “And I think that’s actually considerate of him, unlike _someone_ who’s always being all gross in public.”

“Aww, _Haohao_.”

“—Get off me, I’m working!”

Junhui ends up right next to Jihoon on the couch, thanks to no other than the ever touchy-feely (in literal sense) boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

That’s it. Maybe the answer’s not that far-fetched after all. Now he just hopes it won’t come off as desperate.

Jihoon sneaks a glance at the one beside him to psych himself up before he clears his throat. “As someone who’s been living with his partner for two years, how’d you put up with each other’s shit?”

“Sex.”

The fact that the answer’s returned without missing a beat says something, which, to Jihoon, is a great deal of disturbance.

“I beg your pardon?” he’s determined not to look at the other because to be asking him this is embarrassing enough, but ends up unconsciously doing so anyway.

“It’s such an all-cure, don’t you think?” Junhui continues dreamily. “I’m not talking about the act itself, but the communication in bet- What’s with the face?”

“W-what face…” Jihoon looks away quickly, now made aware of his flaring cheeks.

Junhui, on the other hand, is _ecstatic_ —and that’s an understatement. “Don’t tell me you haven’t- how many days has it been already? Three? Five? Are you guys, like, _okay_ down there?”

Jihoon swats the hand pointing down away. “Whose wedding you think you went to last week?” he tries changing topic, which always works well with _you_ _know_ _who_ for the man’s easily distracted.

“Cute Kwon Soonyoung, that’s for sure. I dunno about grumpy Lee Jihoon though. Dude looks like he was _blackmailed_ to be there,” Junhui’s hands are all over the place as he chirps.

Apparently that didn’t work out, so he tries scrutinizing. “Got something to tell me, Wen?”

“Only if you got something to tell me, Lee,” Junhui replies with no sweat and Jihoon gives up. It’s quiet for a bit, before the taller starts poking him again—not that Jihoon’s expected him to do otherwise. “How’s married life, really?”

“Why ask?” It comes out as a rasp and Jihoon hates how bad his voice sounds. He just hates being sick altogether, but maybe he hates the reason he’s sick a little above all.

“I’m curious, of course! Maybe hearing from you shall make me want to get married.” At that, they can hear _someone’s_ snort from across the room.

“Soonyoung’s got problems,” Jihoon decides he can probably let out _that_ much. (It’s not like what he’s gonna say is something confidential. But bizarre? That’s another story.) Junhui appears to be listening with eagerness. “I believe it’s the ahjummas at the alley south of our”—it’s his first time regarding them as collective that Jihoon chokes on the word, not to mention it came much more easily than he’d ever expect—“neighborhood.”

A scandalized gasp comes through at once. “He’s _toying with the aunties_? What choices!”

Okay, too much eagerness. He needs to finish this fast before Junhui considers him as a jealous obsessive husband or something. “No. He _buys_ _stuff_ from them. By that I mean too much to be considered normal.”

“Is that so? Sounds fun.” Jihoon gives him a pointed look but Junhui feeds on. “What’s he bought?”

He’s gone this far so might just go all the way through, Jihoon rationalizes. “Last week, a shabby armchair got added to the study creating a great clash; then some bone china joined their kin in the display cabinet. As of this week, the foyer didn’t want to welcome an ancient coffer but did, like, _is he in the seventeen century?_ And now some fucking cuckoo clock that shrieks every quarter’s been driving me nuts.”

If Jihoon ends up coughing afterward from the adrenaline rush, that’s fair enough, he thinks.

“Cuckoo clocks are cute!” Junhui proclaims, offended. “Your husband’s got taste in everything but men.”

Jihoon would have to agree to that, never one to take himself as husband-material or anything relevant to that, but also could say the same for himself—if not they wouldn’t be in this pretense situation in the first place.

“Though I’ve to say, you sure pay mucho attention to something of your distaste,” Junhui adds in a suggestive tone, leaning closer. Jihoon makes a clear statement by shifting his butt a seat away.

“I think hyung’s point is that ain’t how one should spend their precious money,” comments Minghao who probably doesn’t know how grateful Jihoon is for his belated remark, how relieved.

“Who said it isn’t?” Junhui shoots back almost immediately, used to the other’s disposition.

The opinions being flung back and forth soon turn into Chinese and Jihoon lets his mind be elsewhere.

_Maybe I can try not going home for a few days._

_…Home, huh._

Seungcheol wouldn’t be Seungcheol if he’s not fretful and a bunch of nerves.

The older’s called to whine about how the apartment became so empty and scary and that he didn’t find sleeping alone very good for his health—as if he came home much when Jihoon was still living with him—even suggested Jihoon bring the keyboard and MacBook to his new place to which Jihoon just half-ass agreed, initially planning to anyway, and promised to come by when time allows.

To clear things up, they didn’t grow up together but know each other so well they might as well have. Lee Jihoon met Choi Seungcheol long before his own puberty hit, the latter having just been moved from an affiliated joint.

You could say they have similar pasts, especially the fact that Jihoon didn’t know of one of his parents—in Seungcheol’s case it’s both, not that the hyung seemed to care.

‘Finding out about them won’t change anything anyway, what’s done is done,’ he’d reason. Jihoon wishes he had half that mindset, because then he’d be able to breathe a little and not feel like the world’s only out there to be against him in everything he tries to accomplish, every path he goes, and just every way possible.

Life in the bar never became easier—with the amount of weekly allowance they got never matching the amount of labor they put in and the fact that mistakes always resulting in _lessons_ , always.

Being the subjects of the boss’s slight favoritism only rubbed salt into the open wound, making them targets of harassment, scoffs, and scornful comments.

Yet it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day being assured that they had each other’s back was what got them through.

And however cruel the place, it did teach them a thing or two.

One, how to not get kill in the real world—whatever the real world is. Two, Jihoon can’t deny he’s come to find fist fighting quite useful, if he ever needs it.

Some years after Seungcheol managed to get out of hell, Jihoon followed suit leaving his performing life with it, only to go to a less rotten one. That shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone since that’s what he’s ever known all his life—a hell that’s a home in a way.

Though he aspires to have the courage to make his mother’s wish not just a wish.

**_Boo_ **

Mon, Sep 2, 5:59 PM

Would you look at the fudging time

Are u not coming in 2night?

no

???

Y? Wru?

the beach

Oh

It’s that day already?

Sorry I forgot

its okay

ill be back tmr?

Got it

Send her my sweetest salute

And imaginary flowers

She will say thanks

It’s his second home. The serenating sound of the waves. Distinctive smell. Sea sprays. Sand in shoes. Memories. Nostalgia.

It used to be Ma’s favorite—when she was still breathing—or more like she made it his favorite by making them go here whenever.

Jihoon never liked the place. Now there’s no one to make him anymore, yet here he is.

He sighs into the wind hitting his back and blowing his hair tousled, crouching down to play with the teasing water.

“Brought you your favorite thing in the world,” _your_ _son_. “Feel like it’s just yesterday that you forced me to come down here but it’s been almost a decade. A decade since you _fucking_ left me to fend for myself.

“You see, Seungkwan even sent his greeting and imaginary flowers. Remember him? Hilarious blabbering mouth?”

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling her about Soonyoung, just like how he doesn’t tell Seungcheol. It’s just a temporary thing that will be over and they’ll go back to their own respective lives, hopefully sooner than later. Soonyoung gets what he wants, so does Jihoon.

But what is it that he wants? Money, really?

Setting sun, golden sky, and soothing breeze—really just like the good ol’ days—and Jihoon finds his emotions spilling all over the place, and his mom’s probably hearing it all. She was so good at that—reading her son’s mind.

“Eomma…I’m _tired_ ,” he breathes out. The strong waves engulf his words and Jihoon lets them. Cold tears roll down his cheeks and Jihoon lets them, closing his eyes.

There’s not a day he’d let himself cry in public, but today. Today is okay.

And Jihoon hopes he isn’t just imagining it when the wind—her voice—whispers back a reassuring, very-much-needed _Everything’s gonna be alright, Jihoonah._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Snap Shoot MV for hitting 1M the fastest!  
> It's so good too! Mingyu really worked hard for that (among everything else). I really loved the tone color. Someone said Mingyu should dress Wonwoo more often and I agree. Soonyoung the usual tiger. Jihoon a cute stingray. And the Jeonghan and Seungkwan's looks? ahhh
> 
> Ahem anyway,  
> Happy 5th anniversary to the boys themselves! Just finished watching Ode to You day3 in Seoul. Made me more emotional. They inarguably seriously do deserve the world.
> 
> For those leaving kudos, thank you.


	3. An optimist’s standpoint | Would you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon likes to believe he isn’t one to make mistakes so he doesn’t know what got into him at that exact moment—why he hadn’t taken down the guy when the chance was right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in italics is flashback. There's few more to come in the upcoming chaps.

**_Boo_ **

Tue, Sep 3, 8:08 AM

Hav u seen it hyugn

De news

???

Tue, Sep 3, 10:04 AM

Omg turn on the tv

Master must have one at home right

Tue, Sep 3, 11:07 AM

gotta go to work

Then I’ll meet u at the store

Tue, Sep 3, 12:00 PM

See ya I’m almost there

“So what I’m saying is”—the younger sucks at his straw, his favorite banana milk barely enough to cool him down—“his superiors are all busted.”

“And?” Jihoon checks out another tiny bottle of banana milk to hand to him, only after he’s told it’s on the house (store) does the younger take it. The audacity.

“What do you mean _and_?” The half-finished bottle being swayed around dangerously somewhat scares Jihoon but not without a good reason: he’d be the one doing the cleaning up if it spilled. Seungkwan further startles him by further invading the little space the counter offers while looking him in the eye. “Kwon Soonyoung your husband could’ve been one of them! How are you so calm?!”

“Because he isn’t really anyway?” Jihoon retorts without much thought. Why is this kid getting so worked up again? Right, he doesn’t know Jihoon’s technically onto the case, or that his other part-time is being a snitch. “And if anything, _you_ should be the one I’m mad at. You got me into this mess.”

The younger makes a change of topic pointedly in a low voice. “I heard he turned out negative. The master.”

With Junhui nicknaming him ‘the landlord’ and Seungkwan calling him ‘the master’ Jihoon’s convinced he has the most creative minds as co-workers.

“That’s because nothing links to him, otherwise you must already be homeless. He’s clean,” Seungkwan adds with a sudden glint in his eyes. “Are you feeling bad for him? Are you worried? Are you?”

For some reason Jihoon spacing out is taken as being ‘silent’ worried, not that Jihoon’s complaining because a situation with an excuse to his advantage just materializes in front of him. Perfect.

So he plays along with being ‘tsundere’ as they like to call him and huffs out, “No.”

Seungkwan takes one look at him to squeal. “Eyyy you are!”

Jihoon sighs. He really doesn’t know how to deal with overexcited people and his life seems to be full of those so far. “I swear to God whatever you’re thinking hasn’t been happening.”

Seungkwan acknowledges his small victory with an ear-to-ear grin, poking his used straw on the new bottle. “But it will?”

“ _Won’t_ ,” Jihoon corrects him more darkly and it’s the truth. He thinks. “I can’t even impel myself to be friendly with him.”

“Hyung, why not~ It’s gonna be _so_ _cute_. You two-”

“No c word allowed, or I’m kicking you out with my possessed authority as the employee on shift,” Jihoon growls.

Their version of c word is different from what other _normal_ people understand. It’s not even considered offensive in anyway, but somehow Jihoon deems ‘cute’ or just any of its synonyms extremely infuriatingly offending (probably from how he’s been called that his whole life, from acquaintances and co-workers to customers and patrons alike).

“I’m curious,” Seungkwan deflects shamelessly. “How much is he paying you really? I mean the-”

“Enough,” Jihoon cuts him again not wanting to hear another of this ‘the master’ crap which, as much as he’d deny it, stirs something nonexistent in his viscera. “He’s paying me enough, just as promised.”

“So he just wired you all the money, without considering the possibility of you bailing him out in the middle?”

“Unfortunately, your friend’s cousin’s not that stupid,” Jihoon admits ruefully.

“So he willingly fishes out his wallet whenever you ask—like a sugar daddy then?”

That gets Jihoon to groan again, temple in his hand. “Can y’all people stop fantasizing, the guy’s rarely ever home,” _not that I’m not avoiding him._ “It’s pretty much like weekly allowance.”

“Nice, and, how’s it like living there?” Another sudden question has Jihoon raise an eyebrow but before he can say anything Seungkwan, taking that as confusion, elaborates. “Y’know, like, how’d you divide the chores and stuff. House rules. Curfews?”

“If you’re _this_ interested, why didn’t you just sell _yourself_ from the start?” Jihoon asks pointedly, cynically, and maybe a little genuinely.

Seungkwan fixes him a look of ‘duh, isn’t obvious’. “Because I’ve a crush I’d like to pursue and you needed a spark to your love life?”

“You assume I don’t date at all, do you?”

“You don’t,” Seungkwan smirks claiming his victory early.

“Fine, I don’t,” Jihoon gives in eventually because that’s the truth. “Now will you please just fuck off already?”

Despite looking like he’s got other plan, the younger does as told anyway not forgetting the second bottle of banana milk he got for free. “See ya later, hyung,” he waves and Jihoon plops down in his chair again. The conversation he was forced into earlier got him riled up (and unconsciously standing up as well apparently).

“Is it a coincidence that a bunch of your landlord’s colleagues are on the news, and not with a good reason?”

The topic’s ample to snatch his interest from the task at hand, but its harbinger… “Do you know something?” Jihoon decides to keep calm, and vague.

“Before we get to that, lemme just ask,” Junhui picks up one shot glass, hand bumping into two others in the process thus ruining the perfect display, and Jihoon’s certain the other’s there principally to piss him off. “Why do you think I haven’t ever teased you like ‘Why are you on shift and not honeymoon’?”

“Cuz for once you learnt your manners not to be a nosy-parker?” he grumbles, required to be on his tiptoes to be able to seize back the shot glass. Great, now he’s got to clean _and_ arrange again, a big thanks to a slacking someone.

“You see, as a matter of fact, after putting two and two together, I—”

Jihoon merely narrows his eyes at him because, Wen Junhui isn’t Boo Seungkwan or what.

“Hăole hăole,” Junhui finally puts both hands out in a surrendering manner. “So, the manager might or might not have told me your wedlock is a sham.”

 _Boo Seungkwan you’re dead meat to me_.

Before they know it, Jihoon’s not behind the bar counter but dragging the house dad away. The side of the building is the employees’ unofficial smoking area, which surprisingly happens to be vacant at this time.

Jihoon throws a look sideways before getting their business rolling. “About what you said, you weren’t kidding?”

“With you? Not a day in my life,” Junhui laughs, unaware he might’ve unintentionally virtually killed a person.

“I believe the correct answer is: every day in your damn life.”

At least his monotony gets the laugher to die down. “Well, if I’m to be honest with you-”

“Don’t,” Jihoon warns. The taller male ignores him anyway.

“I’d have figured out by myself this is a fake one way or another. I mean, what kinda newlywed calls their spouse _the_ _guy_ —or even by their first name?” Jihoon’s still thinking about the rightful way to make his comeback when the other continues. “And it will forever be a shock to the world that Lee Jihoon actually sucks at something: being a pretend husband.”

If he agrees with the sentiment then there’s nothing to say, so Jihoon doesn’t.

“Anyhow, I hope not to find your landlord on tomorrow morning news?”

His mouth speaks before he can stop it. “I checked but dunno for sure. The police are on it.”

“You checked but you’re _not_ sure if he’s involved?” Junhui scoffs, actually scoffs.

“I mean around the house. Didn’t have the chance to look in his room.” He did but no one has to know that. Yet, for all that snooping around, he still can’t tell on the matter. That’s karma right there.

“Thought you’d really quit it after getting hitched,” admits Jun. “Unless”—Jihoon knows what’s coming but it’s already too late—“ _he’s_ the mark.”

_I must’ve been frightfully bad at this whole thing._

“Is he?”

_In this situation, choosing not to confirm or deny anything might be best._

Jihoon draws out a cigarette from the pack bought a long time ago, left crumbled away in one of his jackets’ pockets, still with wrapper and all. For whatever reason, he’s never been able to get into it—into inhaling those toxins and allowing his mind to be somewhere else but the present.

“Before, you really zipped your mouth whenever I asked what this was all about since it’s not exactly a bartender’s job to go around entertaining let alone befriending clients. Even after I’d figured it all out, you still wouldn’t let me join.”

It’s true. Junhui has been begging to take part ever since he’d found out about Jihoon’s _other_ side job, says he’s fit for it and such. At least that’s remained a secret between the two of them. That, or Minghao and Seungkwan are simply good at keeping a lid on, which he thinks is never to be the case for the latter. Take his make-believe marriage as an example.

“You should avoid what you could,” Jihoon makes a reuse of what he’s always told the other, simply because he still stands by it. “The job is not for fun. Will only make your life unnecessarily complicated.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the taller nods lightly in mock-agreement, having anticipated the quote, and moves on. “Earlier you could’ve pretended _anything_ , you know that right? It wasn’t like you to be so easy to crack.”

“…I guess I feel bad.” Even Jihoon’s taken aback by his own confession. “Needed to get it outta my system.”

Junhui’s grin slightly widens, apparently onto something. “Have you always felt bad towards your marks or you only do now because he’s the landlord? Wait-”

“For the second time today, what you’re thinking hasn’t been happening.” The morbid thing’s now lit and all left for Jihoon is put it in his mouth.

The closest he ever gets to that is toying with it in between his slender fingers.

“Second time, huh?” Junhui watches the tube meet the ground and get trampled against it.

“Seungkwan was prying earlier,” Jihoon sniffs, like he didn’t just let one good cancer stick go to waste. “Thank whatever that he dropped it.”

“Don’t kill him,” is the taller’s last warning before he walks off with a back-handed wave.

And whether that’s meant for the blabbermouth or the phony husband, Jihoon wouldn’t know and doesn’t want to.

For he isn’t sure he can keep the promise then.

The landlord-slash-master, as Jihoon’s discovered, is rarely ever home (-on time, in case he says he’d be) and Jihoon’s grateful for that for two reasons: the chance to sneak into the his room whenever he feels like it (sounds creepy to him too but it’s work), and now.

The sound of the cuckoo clock swaying side to side to the end of the world would normally get on his nerve; it’s merely white noise to him, however, when he’s biting on his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. Not from sexual pleasure apparently. Mind you that he’s home alone but not into abusing himself. Not right now anyway.

Considering their circumstances and the nature of their workplace where violence is common, expected, though not exactly encouraged; the cut isn’t so bad—Jihoon’s definitely seen worst, just that pain is never welcomed either.

But pain is good, right? It tells you you’ve been hurt so you’ll put up your guard—or never let it down, one of the two.

Tonight started no different than any others. A scene that could’ve _not_ been a scene broke out because a guy was there to take revenge on another guy, but moronically dropped the switchblade in front of _another_ random pissed guy who then thought he was there to harm him and his girl.

Long story short, it was a stupid misunderstanding that got Jihoon scratched for trying to stop it. _Trying_ _to_ because it was already escalated and Jihoon really would’ve been fatally harmed—the one lying on the floor with a pool of blood, minus a screaming girl—had he not pulled himself out last moment.

No revenge was taken and the nonplussed murderer got away before anyone in their wrong mind called the police. Jihoon, excused early, refused getting patched up there since he was overwhelmed enough with worried faces. Besides, it’s just a scratch.

Serves him right, though, because to be fair it was a slip on Jihoon’s part.

Having finished with the talk with Junhui, he remembered going to relieve himself at the restroom, where he crossed paths with the bearded beef whose boxers had got a knife hidden away _and_ glistening against the dim lights (how far one would go for a revenge.)

Jihoon likes to believe he isn’t one to make mistakes so he doesn’t know what got into him at that exact moment—why he hadn’t taken down the guy when the chance was right in front of him.

…Does he really not know?

He’s fooling no one here.

Of course it’s Kwon Soonyoung.

Everything is Kwon fucking Soonyoung these days—though Jihoon doesn’t (allow himself to) look deeper into what that might entail. The voice of the ever goody-two-shoes Kwon in a strip club was what got Jihoon stopped in his track.

Not that Jihoon believes the man to be _clean_ in that sense, but guess what, it still left him proportionately nonplussed. The perfectly throbbing pain on his arm should be enough proof.

Red was grimly splotched when Jihoon was out of his mind for a second and used the one hand pressing the wound to lock the front door once inside, but he’ll deal with that in a minute hoping _no_ _one_ decides to come home today unannounced.

(It’s three something in the morning but time seems to be of little value in this house even with a clock that squeaks every quarter of the hour.)

Everything appears to be short of useful despite him having gone through all the cabinets, whereas bumping into one of the hinges is all it takes to have him bending and cursing against the kitchen counter.

“Looking for this?”

 _Fuck_.

It isn’t an easy task willing himself not to freeze on his spot in the kitchen, with the pain shooting and all that jazz. It doesn’t take long for him to be reminded that he still needs the damn box. However, the moment he reaches the other side, the man already in pajamas yanks the box away like it’s an instinct, much to Jihoon’s chagrin.

“Let me fix you up, please.”

Jihoon for one would never beckon Soonyoung to be mute in a situation like this—or just any situation really—thus how he’s staying calm despite seeing someone with a freaking cut in his arm is a total mystery.

Still, Jihoon can’t chance panicking which will only cut down his control of himself, of what he’ll spill. He can’t take any chance at all.

Situating himself at the kitchen table that’s barely in use, Jihoon one-handedly rolls the sleeve up to reveal the oozing gash—the wound must’ve reopened while he was rummaging—and can instantly feel _someone’s_ stare burning holes into it.

 _This is a grave mistake_. “If this is your first time, don’t,” he sighs.

“First time w-what?” Soonyoung looks alarmed and Jihoon thinks he knows why. “—Oh. Ah- no, of course not!” The man looks honestly like he’s got more to say then doesn’t, just begins to turn the box inside out.

“We don’t need everything,” Jihoon feels like that was needed.

Soonyoung blinks dumbfoundedly at the tabletop then innocently at Jihoon. “Ah…right.”

 _Eventually_ Soonyoung gets to work and they don’t utter another word, both lost in thoughts.

Well, Jihoon is, Soonyoung just seems deliberately and excessively focused on the task at hand like if he looks away half a second Jihoon’ll bleed to death, or something. Which Jihoon will admit is amusing a spectacle and just a _tiny_ bit endearing.

His conversations with his beloved colleagues earlier summon themselves as the silence slowly engulfs them. He can hear _That’s because nothing links to him, otherwise you must already be homeless. He’s clean_ so clearly as if Seungkwan was right there repeating those words to his ears. (He hasn’t kill him, yet.) But Junhui’s _Have you always felt bad towards your marks or you only do now because he’s the landlord?_ gets Jihoon to look at ‘the landlord,’ the question big in his throat.

Why did he feel bad? He never has to since it’s not like his marks are related to him in any way. Soonyoung is not an exception, so why does Jihoon feel like he’s using him _and_ feel bad for it? None of this is his doings or intentions—or at least that’s what he likes to believe.

To sum up the story, one day he was thrown into a pseudo marriage, which promised money, by Seungkwan. He knew things would still go on as normally had he ignored the younger and pretended the conversation never happened, for Lee Jihoon is stubborn like that and no one, not even Boo Seungkwan, is capable of getting in his way.

And at first he did just that—for half a day to be more precise—until a Kwon Soonyoung was assigned to him: a pilot, friendly, gullible, lives alone. A piece of cake. And that’s when a plan he’d thought brilliant back then entered his mind.

But stories more often than not had their interesting, irreversible plot twists. And for this one, it was that that piece of cake and Seungkwan’s in-need-of-getting-his-mom-off-his-back cousin—the one marrying Jihoon in a few weeks’ time—turned out to be the same guy. The thing is, the guy’s not even Seungkwan’s cousin but Seungkwan’s _friend’s_ cousin.

It’s ridiculous now to think about it, what a joke Jihoon was being made into.

“You’re staring.”

A cautious voice enters his system and Jihoon lets his gaze fall to his lap without saying anything back.

Now, something about how Soonyoung’s behaving is off.

Is it really because of the breaking news of the shady businesses in the airline that half his superiors and maybe even some co-workers and juniors took part of? That’d be scary no doubt, Jihoon tries to sympathize, to come to work one day and find out that your respected seniors and more have found a new home in jail.

Yet among all things, Soonyoung’s still here, which means he’s clean according to Seungkwan, or yet to be exposed according to himself.

“You’re doing it again—staring.”

“Sorry.”

Jihoon _really_ didn’t mean to go back to studying the other’s face; his eyes just did, without his permission. Then again Soonyoung’s no different, with his gash that is, and Jihoon, deciding a little retaliation is in order, says as much.

“You’re really one to talk— _relax_ , I’m gonna get holes with that dagger look of yours.”

“It’s—it’s done,” Soonyoung says instead, backing away about two feet to _take_ _an_ _inhale_.

The job is _messily_ done and could have been better if he did it himself, Jihoon mentally rolls his eyes. But if he were to assess it from an optimist’s standpoint, it was extremely gently—almost too carefully—done that Jihoon hardly felt anything while zoning out. But it could also be _because_ he was zoning out.

“You didn’t say you’d be home,” that just slips out of Jihoon albeit quietly.

It’s not helping that this high-end neighborhood is secluded and their neighbors are so civil—in short, it’s creepily peaceful, so he knows Soonyoung definitely heard him despite having walked far off to the fridge.

“You never answer those texts so I thought you didn’t care?” Soonyoung’s chuckling but sadness is all Jihoon hears. He isn’t sure how, or more like why.

What he’s sure is, something’s indeed off; for Soonyoung’s never—and Jihoon’s not stressing this enough— _never_ seemed awkward, shy, or even the slightest bit of flustered, all of which’s happened over the past whatever minutes they’ve been there.

“You think a lot,” Soonyoung comments further from where he’s getting water, drinking straight from the bottle.

And if Jihoon found that to be disturbing, it’d make no difference. This is _his_ house from the beginning.

“And you don’t think at all.” It’s just a raw impartial observation with no offense by it, of which Soonyoung doesn’t seem to take any because the guy just starts chuckling again. “What’s so funny?” Jihoon can’t help but ask, nose wrinkled.

“Just—” his own laugh cuts him off.

Jihoon feels like walking over to see what’s wrong, or to intimidate so he will cut it off faster so he does, and it works.

“ _Oh_ _God_ , okay okay, I swear I wasn’t laughing at you just—didn’t take you as a funny type, y’know?”

“When I didn’t even try to be,” Jihoon supplies in a deadpan. Now is the perfect moment if he wants to ask—when they’re light on conversation—and his lips get licked unconsciously as he carefully chooses his words. “Hey-”

_Errr~_

It’s a courtesy of Kwon Soonyoung that a belch—a long one at that—greets Jihoon warm in the face, and that radio silence visits them again.

One man stares at the other in plain disgust (and disguised adoration because _it’s_ _cute_ ), and a pout and reddening cheeks are quick to accompany the protest of: “ _C-come_ _on_ , am I not allowed to burp in my own house?”

A sudden thought comes to him. “…Your house, right.”

Jihoon makes a show of nodding and walking away, knowing fully what reaction he’ll get out of the other, proved right by Soonyoung who can’t care less of the water spilled on the way rushing to block him.

“Wait, that’s not what I mean- my bad—I’m sorry! I forgot-”

Even though Soonyoung immediately lets go of Jihoon’s sides at his yelp, both hands up ridiculously in a surrendering manner, the damage’s already done.

“You do forget a lot of things,” Jihoon grumbles as he clutches protectively at his double-injured arm, his fist balled and at the ready to gift a punch to a certain idiot.

“Let me rephrase that, it’s not only mine now.”

The sudden change of tone of the voice above him has Jihoon dumbly respond a ‘what,’ not really on the same page partly from coming down from the adrenaline rush.

_Oh that._

Looking up, Jihoon’s met with dark hair that falls imperfectly under the moonlight, and he decides that this is the best look on the other: puffy eyes and cheeks from sleep, unguarded, in a simple choice for pajamas which consist of a shirt and pair of pants that let only his toenails breathe.

“I’m in no rush but”—comes Soonyoung’s whisper, eyes impossibly softer—“it’d be nice if you start to think of it as yours as well. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Now is probably the timely moment where the recipient of the line goes all red from what it ~~implies~~ directly states and its sheer cheekiness, and Jihoon almost couldn’t catch himself.

This man is dangerous, in a way you can never realize until it hits you straight in the face.

It’s not often Jihoon gives in to his impulses but he’ll admit him closing the gap between them comes off to him as one. He takes detailed notes of how Soonyoung immediately steps back and how the shit-eating grin falls apart and how colors seep onto those cheeks.

He can see how dilated those eyes, and how bloodshot.

_Was he rubbing them again? How much did he-_

There’s a change of plan and Jihoon finds himself guiding the other by the wrist to the sink before hopping onto the countertop with one good arm (doesn’t miss Soonyoung glancing at him awe).

“Wash them in water,” he orders.

Soonyoung looks at him, confused, or _pretending_ to be confused.

“Your eyes. Just do it.”

Thankfully the man needn’t to be told twice.

“If they ever get itchy, this is how you deal with it,” Jihoon adds in the same deadpan tone. “Don’t thank me later.”

“That means I can thank you now”—the taller says in the middle of wiping his face dry with the towel the Jihoon’s ~~handed~~ shoved to him—“so, thank you?”

A lame Soonyoung is better than a tight-lipped Soonyoung, but that doesn’t mean Jihoon won’t roll his eyes. “It’s an expression, you fool,” he responds with no real bite.

Soonyoung dabs his face some more for good measure, though he looks unsure about something. “Do not be offended but…why are you being nice today?”

“Gratitude for patching me up,” Jihoon mutters, embarrassed, but Soonyoung seems contented with the answer nonetheless. So he decides to go ahead and ask about the one thing that had him miscalculate and deduce its owner also wasn’t home in the first place, which is: “Where’s your car?”

“Poor thing broke down today,” Soonyoung replies, wrapping the damp towel around his shoulders which somehow gives off an athletic vibe, or maybe that’s just Jihoon. “So a colleague gave me a lift.”

“Did I ask?” he means the latter part.

“Your face did it in your stead.”

Jihoon skillfully steers clear of the cheeky grin coming his way, letting the heels of his feet uncoordinatedly hit the drawers, before his eyes land on the first aid box still stomached out on the dining table. “Why’d you need that?”

Soonyoung does a backward look. “That? …Oh! Um. I couldn’t sleep so I was finding something to…you know…”

“Like sleeping pills?” Jihoon mental-slaps himself because, why in the world should he care?

It’s too late, for the smug look’s made it back to Soonyoung’s face. “Aw, you really hated me before but I guess we’re friends now?” he coos disgustingly.

“If you promise to stop getting guilt-tripped by alley ahjummas into buying useless stuff into our—I mean _the_ house, I’ll consider it.”

Jihoon’s glad his word slip’s gone unnoticed by the other who just hops up to sit beside him. Their fingers brush and Jihoon is fast to pull his away in an act of crossing them over his chest.

“That, I’d be promising the moon,” Soonyoung muses, turning to him suddenly. “But I’ll try my best since I really want to be yours.”

And Jihoon thinks he’s misheard, for there’s no way the other’s really just ended it on _that_ note. It doesn’t help that the guy’s sitting there looking all but so damn _glowing_ under the moonlight. To top that, those wiggly brows and scrunched nose aren’t supposed to make one feel things, much less a steel-hearted man like Lee Jihoon who doesn’t get why people find puppies effortlessly adorable.

“Friends, I mean.”

By the time Soonyoung’s added the cheeky grin’s damn close to reaching his ears, just like how their noses are so damn close to touching each other, without Jihoon even noticing. The smaller male backs his face away as soon as he does.

A look of awe and maybe incredulity, or both, is what Jihoon manages because, _was that a wink?_ “You’re one real smooth talker, Kwon, that sometimes I don’t believe you’re still single—not _single_ single but—you know what I mean.”

Soonyoung retreats to his own zone of personal space too, back to looking at the tips of his toes poking out from underneath his pajama pants grazing one another. “Some things just aren’t meant to work out. I’ve got bad luck in relationships—at least that’s what the fortunetellers all said. Personally I don’t know, like.”

“Maybe you’re just too much of a hopeless romantic, not that it’s a bad thing per se.” It surprises Jihoon as well that he did mean it.

The other male perks up at that, transparently _swelling_. “You really think so?”

Jihoon finds himself nodding ever so slightly.

“Would _you_ date me then?”

Instinct tells him something bigger laces under that innocent smile.

_Damn you, Kwon Soonyoung._

A scoff—to hide nothing at all. “Don’t be greedy just because I said I’d _consider_ evicting you from my blacklist.”

“Would you?”

That’s probably the most serious the other’s ever sounded but definitely not _looked_ since he’s grinning, getting his cheeks all bunched up.

_He’s sure a tease. Kwon Soonyoung is a whole tease._

Jihoon almost smashes face first into that of the other while wriggling out of the arm blockade— _why’s he blocking me anyway?_ —using only one usable arm, which results in him running up the stairs in hot sweat. “ _Goodnight,_ _Landlord_ ,” he hollers.

There’s a pause.

“—Wait, what was that? Did you just—”

Jihoon doesn’t get to hear the end of it, having slammed the door to his bedroom. In fact, he doesn’t feel like hearing a word more from that mouth. Not in a while. Not ever.

For it makes him feel _things_ he shouldn’t.

When he was about to leave the house this morning, the blood stain on the door knob reminded him of last night’s—or rather, earlier that morning’s—event that Soonyoung dials his best friend’s number as soon as he gets to the airport since it’s Wonwoo’s day-off today. The call’s picked up at the sixth ring or so.

“Jeon Wonwoo-”

“What’d you do this time?” the male sounds groggy as expected that Soonyoung feels a little bad he’s interrupted his beauty sleep, yet at the same time not so bad due to the forward accusation.

“Why first thing you assume is that _I_ did something?” Despite knowing it was the way he’s said the other’s full name that elicited the particular response, he can’t help sulk for five seconds straight. “Anyway, where’d you get a cut from?”

“Barbershop.” Now Wonwoo sounds annoyed, like _You seriously woke me up just to ask that?_

Decking someone in the head, probably himself, is in Kwon Soonyoung’s current wish list. He clears his throat. “I mean like, a knife cut.”

“The kitchen?” That equals _can’t you figure that out yourself?_

“Right? But could one cut themselves on the shoulder cooking?” he makes sure to keep up his enthusiasm. Think you could beat a Kwon Soonyoung? You’re hundred years too early!

“You? Definitely.”

 _Now_ there’s some emotions, perhaps even a smirk, to it. So much for a best friend. “ _You_ are so not helping. Your friend’s in a crisis here!”

“Is this about Lee Jihoon?” Of course Jeon Wonwoo asks just the right questions and knows just about everything.

“A psychic? Is that what you are?” There’s no reply to that. Soonyoung continues, “You know, the long deep kind that bleeds much? God knows who did that to him.”

“ _You_ _just_ _have_ _to_ _ask_ ,” Wonwoo mutters to himself.

“What?”

Wonwoo quickly discards the thought since it’s probably not suitable for Soonyoung. “It’s weird enough he came home instead of going to the hospital.”

“L-like I’d know,” Soonyoung says, sighing right after. “Should I ask him to quit? I think it’s because of his work. The shifts. They kinda…end really late.”

There’s too much seriousness in those that Wonwoo has to remind him. “Please be reminded you’re not his real husband, Soons.”

“Urggg it’s eating me alive because now I’m worried about him walking home alone again at those ungodly hours but it’s not like I could offer to give him rides.”

He’s in this tremendous distress but Wonwoo has the nerve to snicker?!

It takes Soonyoung one, two, three… “N-not in that context! Get your dirty mind out of the gutter, horndog!”

“Did I say something?”

“You _looked_ something, I just know it!” They share a minute of silence (it’s ten sec) before Soonyoung self-realizes he’s getting sidetracked from the point. “Here’s another thing,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “I think my house was broken into.”

He isn’t sure whether Wonwoo pauses for dramatic effect too, but kinda suspects it to be an entire other reason, for the man says, “…Wanna play cops?”

_“Hyung, I know you’re short of money.”_

_It was one fine day in August when Seungkwan came up to him with a shiny grin. From the younger’s look alone Jihoon already knew then he wasn’t about to like whatever it was the younger brought with him._

_“No need to rub it in my face though,” he’d told him dismissively, voice not angry but not pleased either, and continued to sort out the playlist for the day._

_There was a huff before the younger tried again. “Hyung, that favor you owe me-”_

_“You mean the I-got-you-Starbucks-for-two-weeks-straight favor? What about it?” Jihoon looked up from the screen this time, lips stretched into a line in mock interest._

_“You can pay me back now.” Unfortunately him seeming actually interested had ideally been the confidence boost the younger male needed for he carried on with: “Just marry this guy for me.”_

_“What is he? Hansol’s ex?”_

_“No! Far from it!” Seungkwan’d shouted before he could catch his mouth._

_Jihoon knew of the make-up artist’s monumental crush on their DJ, Hansol, so it was just amusing to see him all worked up and crimson cheeked._

_“So you’re saying there’s a guy who’d let me marry him for what? Money? How convincing,” he did go back to the topic, but not before a knowing smirk._

_“Please, hyung. He’s desperate.” The desperate one there should’ve been Boo Seungkwan who looked about to be on his knees._

_“To get laid?” Jihoon’d scoffed, incredulous to some extent. “You could’ve just brought him here. We’ve got plenty of-”_

_“You can ask him that in the bedroom—if he’s going this length just to get laid—but uh uh,” Seungkwan easily turned a deaf ear to that, the eyeshadow brush in his hand wigwagging in sync with his words, then he leaned in as if it was yet another gossip because he was the dramatic diva queen. “_ It’s to get his mom off his back _.”_

_“You’re kidding me--a freaking mama’s boy?!” Jihoon was almost rocked off his chair by his own cackle that resounded throughout the otherwise empty room save for the two of them._

_Seungkwan began crossing his arms mainly to be domineering. “Well, are you seeing someone right now—that will potentially result in a long term relationship?”_

_“What kinda question is that?” Jihoon’d wheezed out mid laugh. They both knew the answer to it anyway._

_“Exactly. Why’d you care then?” To make his point, his face became the one that his eyes blew big and his lips pursed together._

_“I do owe you a favor, Seungkwan,” Jihoon’d acknowledged earnestly before he stood up and shoved the headphones into the other’s bosom. “But not this kind. Go find someone else.”_

_As a matter of fact, Seungkwan didn’t bring the topic up for the rest of the night. It was solely Jihoon who took their absurd little exchange home._

_Walking into their lightless shared space with one wall illuminated by faint white light from a computer screen, Jihoon was unfazed to see the older still up._

_Normally only nods and few words would do because each understood how the other was perfectly spent from their day; however, Seungcheol actually had something for him this time._

_“New one,” he’d picked up the tablet lying uselessly beside him, done some tapping before handing it over, the screen assaultingly bright. “House is near the bar.”_

_“How convenient,” Jihoon’d said flatly, hadn’t the chance to scroll down for the name on top instantly caught his eye._

_It was true Seungkwan hadn’t brought the desperate guy up again in person but that didn’t in any way imply the younger hadn’t brought it up via text, which was exactly what he’d done—spamming Jihoon with the guy’s personal info._

_Deeming his part finished, Seungcheol’s gone back to fighting his yawns in between furious typing, both of which only came to a jolting halt when Jihoon spoke:_

_“By the way, I’m getting married.”_

_The older’s face’d been something like ‘Are you hearing yourself?’ but Jihoon couldn’t have been surer since the lights were off._

_Seungcheol eventually recovered from the initial mental shutdown. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I always thought you didn’t have time for_ something as purposeless as dating? _”_

_He managed to remain nonchalant against the other’s quoting—in such poor quality too—with a shrug. “And I didn’t,” he’d said._

_“Alright. And who might this monster that stole the almighty Lee Jihoon’s heart be?”_

_It was obvious Seungcheol was just entertaining him, because there was no real way the older’d just let his precious little—not so little anymore, Jihoon’d argue—brother go wed someone with an ‘alright.’_

_“There was no stealing. My beating organ’s still up here and will always be.” The ‘who’ part was deliberately left out and if Seungcheol’d been observant enough to catch that, he hadn’t commented on it._

_“So when’s the wedding?” he’d asked instead._

_“You don’t have to come.”_

_“You guys aren’t gonna have one?”_

_“Seungkwan brought up the contract thingy.”_

_“What contract thingy?” With the younger not looking like he’d be too keen on elaborate further, Seungcheol’d moved on. “Wow. Now I’m curious, do her parents know?”_

_“It’s a guy.”_

_A gasp that, again, fake or not Jihoon couldn’t tell. “Oh my god, do his parents know?”_

_“Know what?” he’d demanded, annoyance steadily brewing._

_“That they’re getting another son instead of daughter? Who comes with expiration date at that?” the older’d snickered at his own pun. Kinda pathetic if you asked Jihoon. “Tell me, why do I get this feeling that something very bad is gonna come down? I say, beware of-”_

_“Your hunches are well known to be incorrect more than half of the time anyway,” he’d cut him. “Just focus on that case you haven’t been able to pull your head out for months now, and I’ll promise to do the same.”_

_“That, I’m not worried,” the older’d hummed thoughtfully. “But as your brother, I don’t want you to get hurt, Ji. Just the idea of it hurts me terribly.”_

_And Jihoon’d shaken his head at him. “What I’m getting from this is money—and a big ass house to swim in maybe.”_

_That fairly messed with the other’s priorities. “The dude’s loaded?”_

_“What other type of beings have time for this anyway?”_

_“Touché.”_

_Comfortable silence fell upon them. Jihoon considered retiring to his room then, but something wouldn’t stop bugging him, so._

_“…In what way’d you propose I could get hurt?” he was almost too afraid to ask but he did it._

_“Oh I dunno, by catching feelings maybe?” unlike the inquiry, Seungcheol’s answer was loud and clear._

_Jihoon regretted ever asking. “Did you think with your butt?”_

_“I’m just saying, Ji. Just saying.” It wouldn’t be Seungcheol not to wrap up nicely._

_It was an easy part figuring the older knew once his ruling was out, there was no turning back. Hence, he’d just wait to get at him later or turn it into a superfluous life lesson, either of which Jihoon wouldn’t mind. It felt grounded to be ‘parented’ every once in a while._

_He was just as unfazed to be inconvenienced at the convenience store (no pun intended) where he worked afternoon shift by no other than Seungkwan. Was truly a wonder how he’d survived the scream of the younger when told about his changed mind._

_“Good thinking, hyung,” the make-up artist’d unrepentantly preached. “It’s not like you’re getting any younger. ‘Married once’ will make your résumé look good at least, no?”_

_“I don’t appreciate the humor right now.”_

_“Aya, don’t worry, he’s one decent cousin,” Seungkwan’d gone to assure with a hit to the shoulder and a sneaky wink. “And you know I’d never sell you—our beloved hyung—out.”_

_“Doubt the last part because you did just that,” Jihoon remembered grumble-shouting to the swiftly disappearing figure._


	4. (Not) Part of the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words have Jihoon coughing into his can of coke, on verge of choking that it makes him want to choke someone. “Never knew idiocy was genetic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: death. To be more precise, there'll be a funeral.

Have you ever been hit with realization that every moment is nothing but short-lived? It’s here right now and gone a moment later, though, how long or short the moment is varies.

In Jihoon’s case, it’s a span of thirteen days.

**_Annoying Kwon_ **

Thu, Sep 5, 12:18 AM

_image attached_

I don’t know if you have alr seen that.

Because you didn’t respond to my note.

So what do you wanna do?

I completely understand if you won’t go.

I’m sorry, mom does things on her own.

*my mom

Please tell me what you decide.

I can call it off with her.

Explain to her if it’s a no.

Thu, Sep 5, 12:30 AM

But also,

She said the performing group will only be there for a week.

And it’ll be a waste of money to just let these free tickets go.

I heard the place offers a variety of shows too, and they’re super popular!

Maybe we can stay to see some.

To be honest, I’m more thrilled about that than what my mom sent.

Do you think there will be a mime act?

I’ve always wanted to see one of those!

Thu, Sep 5, 12:41 AM

Oh no nvm what I added.

*never mind

Plz have a good day.

*a good night

I always forget the time differences.>/\<

The temperature’s getting really low here in Boston.

Hope you’re keeping warm.

“Do you think he’s just stupid or he’s _real_ stupid?” Seungkwan says, incredulous. “I mean, how could he not figure it out what _kind_ of shows those are?! Just because they don’t advertise ‘oh we offer sex shows here’ doesn’t mean they don’t, but no one wants police involved! Also, does he not find it warped to go with a stranger? Though I know you, _live under the same roof_ , like,” he air quoted the last part, confident he’d get a kick had he used the term _married_.

The younger male already got what he deserved for not being able to keep his mouth shut regarding the contract: a hit in the head and seven more day-offs Jihoon could call anytime. They’ve been on kinda good terms since, until today, just now.

It’s comically three in the morning when the three of them were chilling in the break room after a not-so-busy-just-boring night. Minghao’d left saying he had to work on something, which Jihoon completely relates to. Talking about sudden inspiration and stuff.

Minding his own business was Jihoon. He’d been scrolling through his text messages and completely unaware of his privacy being invaded from behind, until the moment his phone was rudely snatched away.

Took him a load of angry death threats plus more running—and he’s got a fresh wound on a shoulder for fuck’s sake!—to be able to seize it back, which was half useless then since Seungkwan, a man who makes a big deal out of everything, had already got hold of what was on there. Another hit to the head for him.

So much for privacy when your pals are like this, Jihoon’s muttered after the fiasco winded down.

“ _With_ _you_ , he wants to go,” Junhui points out, leaning in with chin on his interlaced fingers and sending their smallest friend a kinda suggestive smile, but not quite the one he wears on stage.

Even though he isn’t in the limelight as much now that he focuses mainly on the house dad duties—just like you’d have a house mom in a normal club, here they welcome all kinds of people thus a house dad—people still come just for him. His ‘special stage’ as they call it is every Friday, the pricey tickets attesting his ongoing popularity.

The words have Jihoon coughing into his can of coke, on verge of choking that it makes him want to choke someone. “Never knew idiocy was genetic.”

“ _It_ _is_ ,” once again Boo Seungkwan chooses a wrong time to be intellectual, ducking a second too late and he would’ve gotten another cracked bone.

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” Junhui who is unbothered by their smallest friend’s antics swerves the topic back into lane. “Landlord’s just being nice.”

“Yeah, like, all the fucking time. Maybe he should’ve proposed to one of those ahjummas instead.” Jihoon just hopes he won’t find another alien crap when he gets home, if he does go home tonight.

“You jealous?” Junhui tries.

“Exactly why I should get a divorce.”

Shouldn’t he be proud over the fact that he’s getting immune to these recently increasing suggestive remarks being hurled at him _and_ being able to retort in an indifferent tone and not a blush.

“Excuse _you_ , mister taken, are you listening to yourself?” it’s no surprise Seungkwan takes over Junhui in his scandalized gossiping mode, and from that alone Jihoon knows to steel himself for the rest. “Firstly, I worked hard for this not just for you to ruin it in _less_ than a month. Secondly, he’s asking you _out_ right here—because no one sees erotic dances with someone they don’t wanna fuck with—and here you’re mentioning divorce? I call ridiculous.” He finishes off with a big gulp of beer for dramatic effect. The ever dramatic guy.

“A Kwon might do just that—go with a friend, I mean,” Jihoon adds at his own pace after swigs of carbonated sweetened drink. “And it’s not just mentioning. Have been thinking about it for a while.”

“And? You know you can’t if he disagrees.”

“That’s why it’s only been a thought. This should do something to it.”

“Like what?” Seungkwan says like a dare, or maybe he’s genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Jihoon replies without really thinking, and true to his words he really has no idea.

“I do,” the house dad looks ready to share his piece. “Just go join the performers on the stage and he’ll be scarred for life. Obviously it’ll be Landlord’s first time so this is foolproof.”

For a stretched moment, the air stills and Jihoon can feel his heart dropping to his feet while panic rises up his back. His eyes flit to the former speaker, gaze uncontrollably darkening, voice two pitches lower as he croaks out, “ _Very_ _funny_ , Wen.”

Seungkwan clapping twice and raising a hand up to him for a high five, seemingly not suspicious whatsoever over what that could really imply, is what breaks the spell and gets everything back on track. Tugging the doubt away for later to let himself relax a bit, Jihoon raises his own to meet the younger’s halfway.

Junhui, feigning hurt, starts flapping his hands all over the place. “Yah I’m talking serious here! You know serious? Es ee-”

“Shut up. The end line is I’m _not_ going.”

Jihoon tunes out the sound of exhilarated snickers his worst of friends don’t even bother to hide, praying for their saliva to choke them.

He’d rather die than go with the annoyingly naïve fake spouse who's got to be educated on what a strip club offers.

Just, not cool.

Comes Saturday at some late o’clock in the afternoon where Jihoon finds himself at the front porch that he by now has grown accustomed to like it’s his own house. (Someone’s words ring in his ears.) And that scares him if only a little, a part of him that has left him single until now.

Well, can’t consider himself single now, can he?

Jihoon still hasn’t resolved the ‘free tickets’ situation, not wanting to sound rude in case this is really all the mother-in-law’s doing. He just wonders if he has gone stupid from marrying someone stupid, because coming here simply means confrontation.

In his defense, he’s only dropping by only to repack his bag, replacing the used clothes with fresh ones from his closet, and will be gone in a sec. A peek to make sure the garage’s still empty gives him a seed of relief.

His last hope is that no one won’t be arriving during, though Soonyoung had texted he’d be in like, fifteen, _though_ Jihoon isn’t sure how much accountable he could hold it.

By a quick glance, nothing seems out of place (or _still_ _as_ out of place?) from when Jihoon left the house a couple of days ago.

There’re cushions scattered on and around the couch from when he’d come down to watch a volleyball match alongside Seungkwan to keep him distracted, via a call, from his daily task of prying into Jihoon’s love life—or more like his fake-husband life.

The downstairs washroom’s lights are still on from how Jihoon was rushing out and forgot to turn it off.

The goldfish in the tank look like they could eat each other’s head but they’re always begging for food so, not really a matter of concern.

Left by the only other guy living here, the something-teen cans of beer on the kitchen table are still out since it’s a known fact they aren’t gonna clean up after themselves.

_But wait._

Jihoon is not exactly fond of math but if he’s not mistaken (miscalculated), Soonyoung’s not been home four days in a roll? That’s a record and the feelings it gives him aren’t good ones, not that the number helps even when Jihoon’s not into superstition.

And aren’t those black socks peeking themselves from second floor corridor?

Now that’s weird, because Soonyoung never wears black socks, only colorful ones with cartoon characters. How childish my husband. (His subconscious _did_ _not_ just blurt that out.)

Even with things discernibly not adding up, his brain can’t seem to connect the dots and Jihoon blames the math calculation earlier.

Anyway, first thing first.

With no urgent need to deal with the stray pillows, he goes to give the lights their rest, feed the (actually) starving fish, then clean up after _someone_ (might’ve crushed some cans while doing so). And since a few cans are actually unopened, the man gathers those to put back in the fridge.

What catches his eyes though, is the many food containers, big and small, stacked ever so orderly in piles taking up residence in most of the space. It doesn’t cost him a thought to be able to figure out where those might’ve certainly materialized from (neither of them is a cooking type anyway); picking up one of them only confirms his theory.

It does, however, cost him a tear or two—the feeling having hit him so hard and suddenly. The feeling of what it’s like to be living a normal person’s life with their normal mother, the feeling of being loved and cared for that he hasn’t felt in forever.

For on top of one and every lid lies a little piece of paper with neat hand writing:

_‘You said the last one was too spicy so I put in_ just _a pinch of gochugaru this time. Also, does Jihoonie like spicy food? What kind of banchan would he like?’_

His eyes flit to rest, doing a quick skim without him meaning them to.

_‘Eat this first, it goes bad fast.’_

_‘Freshly made, save for later.’_

_‘Don’t leave this out like last time, eomma had to go to Jejudo just to get it.’_

_‘The top one’s been fermented the longest, don’t mess up the order!’_

_‘Heard you’re craving jangjorim so tada~ (It’s from your Auntie. As always, Wannie said she misses you a lot:)’_

_‘I know ganjang-gejang is your favorite but share them with Jihoonie alright, I’m sure he’d love some-_

His hands tremble so much that Jihoon has to put down the box of oi-muchim he’s forgotten to.

Mother-in-law’s constantly dropping by the house in secret is not his problem—might be Soonyoung’s, but never his—yet, if that means getting emotional attacks every once in a while, it might start to be his as well.

Just as Jihoon’s done returning the food to its original place, his phone knows exactly when to ring. When did phones become so intelligent?

His guess is that, it’ll be just Soonyoung saying he’ll be late again even though he never has to, _even_ _though_ he never _calls_ to do so. (Who’s he fooling that the certain idiot—now a possible runaway—is not the only thing on his mind these days? Probably only himself.)

To his ~~disappointment~~ surprise, the call’s not from _Annoying Kwon_. More reason to pick up, right? “Hello, Lee Chan—”

_“Are you at there yet? How’s hyung?”_

The other’s panting, his words slurred as though he’s hurrying somewhere that Jihoon couldn’t quite catch them. “What?”

_“Um, I see hyung hasn’t told you yet since he must be busy—crying I don’t know-”_

“What’s going on?” Jihoon demands. He thinks he hears a muted sigh.

_“Ahjumma- I mean, Soonyoung hyung’s mom, was in a car accident. I’m heading there right now. Will text you the address in case you wanna come—”_

Then the call just ends abruptly.

 _In case you wanna come_ , the words ring so strangely in his ears.

Is he _supposed_ _to_ want to come?

His eyes flick to the refrigerator’s door where two daunting tickets await him with a familiar yellow sticky note that reads:

From Mom. She really wants us to go. Tell me what you think.

-Soonyoung

His hand acts on its own and snatches the pair of small colorful cardboard, and before he knows it his legs are skipping themselves every other step up the stairs.

In four minutes the ma leaves with a repacked bag, and a blanket that wasn’t part of the plan.

He knows for a fact that mother-in-law resides in her hometown Namyangju, which is also where Soonyoung was born and bred, and that to get there takes about half an hour.

 _So what was she doing at the opposite side of Seoul?_ the question popped in his mind some time during the whatever minutes it took him to get to the address Chan’s sent him.

At a glimpse of a mass of people crowding the hospital’s elevator area, the man opts for the escalator which takes him only until the tenth floor, the eleventh’s being under repair, yet Jihoon feels like taking the stairs for the remaining seven so he does.

His shoulder’s gotten better but of course it still slows him down, and the throb in his calves speaks to him only after the reception desk’s in his sight.

“Mrs Jung Seonhwa,” he manages to pant out, trying not to gape at the VIPs sign.

“Your relationship with the patient, please?” the nurse behind the counter asks dutifully, beginning typing behind the screen.

“I’m her son-in-law. Lee Jihoon.”

She seems indifferent with his answer, probably doesn’t notice the screen stating the patient has only one son which is good. One less hassle to deal with.

“Mrs Jung Seonhwa’s in—oh she was just moved.” Her voice instantly falters at the end, so does the smile Jihoon’s put up.

“Moved? Where to-”

“My deepest condolences.” That’s enough for Jihoon to catch on. “Please check in with our staff at the funeral hall. Floor B1.”

The nurse seems to have more questions for him—like how a son-in-law doesn’t know his mother-in-law has passed away, which is exactly what’s on the tip of Jihoon’s tongue, he just needs the right person to ask, beating her to excuse himself with a ‘thank you.’

He’s merely turned on his heels when another nurse stops him with a breathless call, running over to catch up to him and leaving the white door agape behind her.

“Mrs Jung’s guardian?” she raises the stuff in her hands. “I think they forgot to take these.”

_…Curtains?_

It’s quite boisterous for a funeral, but that’s no surprise considering how loud the guests were at their wedding.

Jihoon approaches the room indicated by the staff at the front with heavy steps and a pounding heart, in one hand is a huge bag full of green linin, the other clutching the strap of his trusty duffel bag over his good shoulder.

There’re already stands of white mums from organizations and companies lining up the entrance. How are they so fast? Or is Jihoon just so behind?

At a glimpse inside, another realization hits him hard. _Shit right, this casual combination of a hoodie and sweatpants…_

“Hyung! You made it.” Apparently the guy’s favorite cousin’s gotta be the one manning the entry. Lee Chan’s waving him over with less-than-usual enthusiasm as Jihoon treads carefully to him, taking the foreign atmosphere in. “Sorry, you don’t mind me calling you that, right?” he winces upon realizing his mistake.

“Anything’s fine,” Jihoon tells him absentmindedly. Well, one doesn’t have to guess what’s actually on his mind.

“Ah…you should go inside, you know, the mourning room, and see how Soonyoung hyung’s doing, for me?” Jihoon hasn’t opened his mouth, yet the younger’s right on point, maybe he can grow to like the guy. Chan hands him a burlap armband for him to wear. “You got any black suit and tie? I think hyung brought a spare… You can ask him that too.”

Jihoon gives him a tight lipped smile, clasps him gently on the shoulder, and moves onto the step he’s been having cold feet about.

In said room, a man and a woman are giving their bows to the picture of the deceased then to Soonyoung who then mirrors them, both parties clad in black from head to toe. Jihoon silently observes their interaction from where he’s leaning behind a protruding corner, waiting until they’re finished.

After all the bowing, the couple give hugs to the man who then invites them to all sit down. With the strangers’ backs to him, all of his attention automatically goes to Soonyoung and his usual _bright_ face. Jihoon doubts his eyes.

The three speak for a while, Soonyoung seemingly leading the conversation animatedly from how his hands are all over the place and the smiles that get his cheeks all bunched up.

When the room’s finally void of visitors, Jihoon takes off his shoes—they’re sneakers but he’s lucky to have also brought his leather ones—and proceeds inside as quietly as possible. Soonyoung doesn’t acknowledge him until he’s right in front of him, at eye level. “You forgot these.”

“Jihoon ssi? How… You’re here!” Despite his high-spirited greet, Soonyoung looks rather, shocked? His eyes belatedly fall on Jihoon’s hand. “Oh the curtains! Yes, thank you very much. I was actually gonna go get them but, you know, didn’t want Mom to feel lonely.”

 _The ever so considerate son._ “Well, I’m here now.” Jihoon only has time to consider its alternative meaning after the room’s gone significantly quieter than it’s already been. He bites on his tongue not to say something stupid again. “And, um, I was wondering if I could maybe borrow your suit…”

“Why, are you cold?” Soonyoung’s already taking off the black jacket _he’s_ wearing when he catches on the smaller one’s expression.

 _Okay, looks like there’s nothing to worry. It’s still the same idiot,_ Jihoon might’ve rolled his eyes to suppress his creeping (creepy?) smile.

“ _Ohhh_ sorry! Yes, I do have a spare but, um, I’m sure you must be busy and since you’re not family—don’t take this the wrong way, I’m _not_ telling you to leave!—so, what I’m saying is, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Now is probably the worst of times to laugh but Jihoon finds the other being flustered amusing, somehow. “Like I said, I’m here now,” an excuse’s all he’s got, him still indecisive over the ‘wanting to’ part. “Just tell me where it is.”

“It’s in my bag—in the bedroom. Just turn left here and you’ll see doors, it’s the last one. Or I can show you-”

“I’ll be quick,” Jihoon cuts another rambling by pushing himself up from the crouching position or he may not be able to take the altruistic stupidity any longer.

“Ah…you sure it won’t be too big for you?” Soonyoung sounds unconvinced.

Jihoon only waves an implied ‘it’s fine’ and gets his butt out of the room.

Good God, this human being won’t let him live (in vain).

His sliver of hope that the other rooms weren’t all taken is neatly archived by the ruckus and moving shadows under thresholds Jihoon’s noticed while walking past, perfectly refreshing his memory of the Jung’s many relatives and extended families.

That’s how he ends up here.

Size-wise, the room is sufficient, having _just_ _enough_ space for one bed that looks capable of giving you back pain next morning. Soonyoung’s stuff and now added his own, which mind you is not much at all, make it quite impossible to fit a person on the floor, even someone Jihoon’s size. Then there’s a door for a washroom—well, at least everyone doesn’t have to jam in a single shared one.

Regardless, the alternative of sleeping on the floor is confirmed to be out of question.

But that can be fretted about later, Jihoon reminds himself as he changes out of his comfy clothes and into some black slacks, then takes out his one and only pair of formal shoes Seungkwan had gotten him alongside his wedding tux.

The younger’s instructed him to think of them as wedding gift, even though they more than knew the marriage wasn’t one out of love. Back then Jihoon didn’t understand why Seungkwan even bothered with that at all, now he won’t complain.

At present, the jacket is bigger an issue from how the sleeves completely cover those of his dress shirt while the closure doesn’t quite hug his torso as it’s supposed to; anyone will sure be able to tell it’s not his. But looking half adorable half ridiculous should be the least of his concern right now. Jihoon steps out.

The reaction in the dining hall, however, is thankfully sparse. No one seems to mind too much; rather, they’re engaged in their own things, be it small talk, go-stop, meal, or soju. The man rids the thought from his head and gets to work.

It goes without saying he hasn’t had the luxury to go to many funerals since they are no economical businesses—this technically being his second. The first one he ever went was—you guess it—not his mom’s, but of the boyfriend of one girl he used to know. That was the last he’s seen of her, which hasn’t been that long actually. The sad lingering look she gave him when they parted gets him to wonder about her from time to time: whether she’s doing well, whether she’s moved on after that.

Serving food and cleaning up table after table provide Jihoon time to muse over other things he never thought he had problem with. Well, not exactly _problem_ , they just stay to bug him whenever boredom’s about to take over.

Indeed he’s stopped by more people than he cares to count, most tend to ask how he’s related to the Jung or whether he’s just a nice boy who stays over to help. Funnily enough, the answer of ‘I’m her son in law’ seems to shut them up good, as in they’ll awkwardly go ‘ahh~’ and let him be on his way.

The only exception to that must be Jeon Wonwoo who couldn’t stay for long because of work. The taller talked about how they had to reschedule flights and everything because of how sudden this is, to which Jihoon couldn’t think of any worthy comeback so he merely wished the man safe travels.

You can call him creepy for this one but in his defense it’s his way of executing the ‘see how hyung’s doing, for me.’ By stealing glances every now and then, there’s been nothing too clashing with what he’s seen himself so far: lively greets, vibrant smiles, bunched up cheeks, crescent eyes, hands to accompany stories, thank yous, polite goodbyes, held-back sighs-

Sighs? A bereaved person’s allowed that much, right?

His several hesitant attempts at checking in are all cut short by group after group of compassionate people coming to give their respects and condolences, and it getting more and more erratic towards the night only serves as his distraction from keeping track of Soonyoung.

Now is a little past midnight. Little children were shepherded to bed first thing in the dusk, including that girl whom Jihoon decides to call Cola Can Girl, who waved at him while being ushered to bed by supposedly her mother, and Jihoon found himself smiling back. The next to have gone were the teenagers.

The dining area is almost vacant, the only people being some old dudes nursing soju in the corner. In the unattended quiet kitchen, Jihoon discards the last of plastic cups and deems it good enough, done for the night.

His phone’s probably died in his pocket many hours ago. Thinking of unread texts and missed calls demanding his whereabouts gives him an itch but he decides against it. Filling in his colleagues can wait when his duty is yet fulfilled.

The ever dutiful son’s never left that room, it seems. Maybe once to the restroom but that’s it. Was his mother a lonely person?

(Was. The word never sounded so grim to Jihoon.)

When Jihoon's done paying his respect to his late mother-in-law—just her picture really—Soonyoung’s still in the same posture as when Jihoon first entered the room: his head in his arms covering his knees which’re pulled up to his chest. Is he sleeping?

Jihoon takes off the oversize jacket and about to drape it over the slightly trembling body when the ball of soft hair lifts itself. It takes a few seconds before a pair of monolids widen in shock.

“Thanks for lending this,” Jihoon says instead.

“Keep it. You’ll need it tomorr-” The timid smile falters at once, Soonyoung looks down. Even when nothing more is said, Jihoon can vividly see it.

The realization. The disappointment. An ‘Ah…you probably won’t be here tomorrow, right’ written on his forehead.

“Guess I’ll be keeping it then.”

That revives Soonyoung like a breath of air to a drowning person, his eyes not immediately on Jihoon but his hands—more precisely, them moving the suit to rest on his arm.

“Go sleep in bed,” Jihoon adds before he forgets to.

Soonyoung’s kind smile comes slowly. “Can’t have Mom by herself. You go…Jihoon ssi.”

Perhaps that’ll be for the best, the smaller man tries telling himself. At least they won’t have to be awkward in the room that’s too small to be one.

In the end, it’s the sight of a gloomy Soonyoung sleeping-trembling-crying alone in this even gloomier space, and maybe another thing— _person_ —involved that leaves him no hesitation.

Soonyoung’s seriously dozed off again when Jihoon’s done deciding on what to do.

_Maybe it’s not the mother but the son, who is lonely._

Soonyoung really doesn’t remember falling asleep nor does he recall bringing over a blanket—thick one at that—but when he wakes it’s there draping over him.

Correction: him _and_ parts of another person’s legs.

Were Soonyoung inebriated, the presence of the smaller man whose snores are being muffled by his arm would’ve utterly sobered him up.

Was Jihoon the one bringing this warm thing _and_ sleeping here all night? Beside him?

Good thing Jihoon’s lying down or the guilt would be eating him alive for the rest of the day because of a possible back pain and stiff neck the smaller could’ve gotten, like Soonyoung did.

“At least you know.”

“ _Eommayah_ —”

Being caught off guard _twice_ in a span of two minutes after waking up by the same man whose face is next to his blowing warm breathes into his ear? Give him a break if his heart does beat ten times faster.

“You scared me!” Soonyoung finds himself yelling some more out of feeling overwhelmed and _not_ _at_ _all_ flustered from the sudden proximity.

Something tickles his ear—a soft breath of air—then, “So let’s not do it again tonight, hmm.”

Can’t believe Jihoon said that all while looking as though he hadn’t been the cause of a potential heart attack, got up midst stretching, and was gone clutching his right shoulder on his way out.

Soonyoung, reminded of the injury there, feels like apologizing already.

_How funny, he looked disgusted whenever I asked him to eat with but suddenly he wanted to sleep with me?_

_Ah not_ sleep _sleep with me but…whatever._

Dawn brings the sound of shuffling feet and quiet chatters in the distance. At the picture of a woman among the white flowers and food offerings, Soonyoung forces himself up in spite of his own sagging shoulders and defeated sigh.

What he doesn’t notice is a pair of eyes watching his every move, before it’s out of view again.

If Jihoon deems the first day busy, the second is nothing short of hectic. He gets that a lot more people come since they just find time to or just get the obituary notice or whatever, won’t be surprised if his arms fall off at the end of today.

Noon comes and he realizes— _is_ realized, by a grumbling sound—that nothing else’s reached his stomach save for a small bottle of banana milk from no time less than seven hours ago.

“That’s Soonyoung’s, right? I’ll take care of it,” his mouth works its way before he can catch it, him having spotted the younger heading toward the mourning room, food on his tray.

“Alright then,” Chan obediently hands the tray over after a few confused blinks. “Just make sure he has something, and _you_ _too_ , Jihoon hyung.”

Jihoon nods, about to make a move but is blocked by a hand on his arm.

“Wait here, I’ll bring him. Someone’s sat there long enough to be growing roots.” Jihoon finds himself snorting despite the situation and Chan loosens at that, grinning in response. “Hoshi hyung _really_ hates burdening others that oftentimes it results in him pretending to be okay when he’s not,” the younger goes on to add before realizing his mistake. “I-I mean, Soonyoung hyung.”

Jihoon returns with a small grin of his own.

Well, ‘drag’ should be a more appropriate definition for what he’s seeing.

After having settled down at a table at the far end, Jihoon could be imagining it but he started hearing noises from the particular room. Even with the dining hall being ceaselessly loud and not being able to see what was going on, he could kinda tell they were arguing, Chan being the assertive one.

People start noticing when the pair (or just Chan, rather) makes it out of the room, and Jihoon is right beside them in double quick time. There’s no denying Soonyoung’s (on verge of) crying.

Chan’s saying something Jihoon’s not taking in, so seems Soonyoung with those hands over his head.

Trying is better than not, so with all the sugar in his body (which is just about nothing) he offers:

“Soonyoung-ah.”

That shuts both of them, and Jihoon takes that time to take hold of the crying one’s hand to really drag them to the table. From the corner of his eye, Chan gives out thumbs up. But his misery doesn’t end there.

“Food’s getting cold,” he warns.

Apparently that does nothing to Soonyoung and his newfound aspiration to become a log.

 _Ah, I can’t believe I’m doing this-_ “My arm’s sore from all the serving. Hurry up and take it.”

 _Finally_ , gingerly and still without matching his eyes, the stubborn guy takes the extended spoon trying not to spill the soup but does anyway due to his hyperventilating and hiccupping mixed.

_How I’ve got myself a helpless grown ass…_

Jihoon takes care of the spilled liquid with one paper towel swipe, unconsciously letting out an exhausted exhale that Soonyoung must’ve taken as an angry one (he’s not too wrong), for the guy starts gobbling up. Only to choke afterward.

“Seriously, stop crying,” Jihoon says with the least amount of exasperation he can manage, sliding a cup of water across the table. “I don’t deserve being deprived two days in a row, don’t you think?”

The other’s cheeks redden at that and Jihoon doesn’t know why, but it’s adorable.

“R-right, sorry-”

“A grieving person should cry, but not during the meal,” he cuts him again, this time offering the guy his black handkerchief. “And if you’re gonna apologize, do it to your mom after you’re done choking yourself to death.”

Soonyoung sniffs but doesn’t take it, going back to eating instead. Jihoon puts away the ignored piece of cloth and mirrors him.

The sight he presents his friends is utmost embarrassing—what with Soonyoung’s head a constant weight on his lap but Jihoon’s not gonna lie, he _kinda_ likes it there. His excuse? Soonyoung wouldn’t back down from going back to tend the damn room did Jihoon not force (threaten?) him down—at first, but within minutes he was passed out like a baby.

For some reason, Soonyoung always gives in only after his requests become threats that Jihoon’s starting to question whether it’s healthy for a relationship, even a fake one?

And he may be regretting it a little, texting Junhui the reason he was absent yesterday. (HeeHe figured Seungkwan to have already heard from Chan. He’s never wrong about that.)

It’s a rare occurrence to see all of them matching in black formal wears but the two couples—he likes to call Seungkwan and Hansol one even though they’re not there, _yet_ —manage to slay it anyway, and Jihoon tells them as much when they’re done with the mourning room and come back to gather around him (and Soonyoung).

The compliment’s taken well, especially by Junhui and Seungkwan who dead-set fix their eyes on him. Jihoon never thought he’d squirm under scrutinizing gazes (he’d only scrutinized others before), now he knows he does.

 _‘How’s he?’_ Seungkwan motions at the unconscious man.

Fortunately they seem to understand the shake of his head and move on.

Looking at them, Jihoon does feel bad for Minghao and Hansol being left out of the secret despite knowing the two they would never tell on him—them—but reminds himself that the less number of people that know, the easier it’ll be when this comes to an end.

_Which may come faster now considering…_

Jihoon’s grateful for the surrounding chatters that pull him out of his trance.

After a quick catch-up, and be it the prominent spectacle of Soonyoung sleeping soundly or whatever (they can’t talk properly with Jihoon looking all awkward but not being able to move an inch anyway, not that talking in normal decibels their expertise), Seungkwan unsurprisingly rolls his sleeves up and puts himself to the serving duty. Hansol copies him in a heartbeat whereas Minghao excuses himself muttering something about nature’s call; that leaves him (them) with the oldest of them all.

“Jihoon,” Junhui says in a sudden hushed tone, leaning closer. “Out there I think I saw-”

“Yes, I know.”

Silence.

Junhui casts his eyes down. “Since when?”

Jihoon really shouldn’t be telling him this but- “Yesterday.”

“Is it him…or you?”

Another silence.

“Just rest up. I’ll watch out for ya,” Junhui eventually stands, clasping him on the shoulder before going to join their other friends, essentially leaving them to their own device.

Jihoon thinks about getting up as well since his legs have gone perfectly dumb, but the man currently in his care decides to shift closer then, hands coming to ball at the hem of the black suit that’s technically his own. For that very reason, Jihoon’ll let him have that in the face of his own uncomfortableness.

He might not know what nightmare is striking Soonyoung to the extent of breaking out in a sweat, but what he does discover is that placing a hand on the trembling man’s head helps steadying those breaths, and that slipping fingers in between those dark locks does wonders for loosening those fists.

Jihoon doesn’t mean to fall asleep, yet exhaustion overcomes him at some point.

Evening greets him along with Chan who’s supposedly nudged him awake, informing in an attentive voice that Seungkwan and the others have already left because of work and that it’s almost time for the body prepping. Before Jihoon can start slapping himself awake, he recalls something and looks down. To find his lap empty.

(Strangely, that leaves his insides feeling empty as hell as well.)

Chan must’ve noticed his anxious shifting because the boy then adds in a knowing tone, “If you’re wondering about hyung, you can just wait outside. I think he’s using the restroom. Will be out in a moment.”

Not knowing his place among the busy folks shuffling in and out discussing all kinds of topics, Jihoon goes to stand in the hallway as told.

Yet even after the rest have already gone ahead, still no sign of Soonyoung.

From the corner of his eye there’s a person coming down the hall, going past him and-

_It’s not him._

Relief really floods Jihoon for a brief moment, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He considers resuming staring at his phone but ends up peeking inside just in case, seeing that the stranger in his middle-age years somewhat has gone on his knees in front of the mourning room.

“Seonhwa-yah, I’m sorry,” he hears the ahjussi croak out. “Seonhwa- _Soonyoung_ - _ah?_ ”

All of a sudden there is, if anything, a very rigid-looking Soonyoung. It’s a look Jihoon’s never seen on him let alone imagine.

Soonyoung, however, merely sidesteps the elder and starts walking away, without a look back. The stranger makes to get up and Jihoon won’t hesitate to charge if necessary.

Turns out there’s no chasing anyone, the ahjussi staying rooted to the spot and only sending an aching gaze that definitely means something.

Could that be…the father?

With Soonyoung looking like he’s seen ghost when they finally lock eyes in the hall, the theory’s not entirely out of the picture—that, or he simply didn’t expect Jihoon to have waited for him, _or_ the realization how his plan of escaping the body prepping has evaporated into suffocating air just now is hitting him too hard.

They don’t exchange a word, the former taking the lead whereas Jihoon wordlessly follows him after flashing a second glance back.

That’s when he can feel them again—those tailing eyes—and it frustrates him not knowing where they’re from.

Jihoon can only take longer strides to catch up.

Soonyoung never loosens up even when they’re in the basement morgue, thick glass the only thing separating the living from the dead.

If the accident could cause death, then her body must not be too…pleasing to the eye. Regardless of that, Jihoon isn’t sure even if they’re supposed to watch this and from the corner of his eye, Soonyoung with his head up appears to be the only one doing so—or rather, having his eyes glued there but not really taking in anything. The others, mostly the ahjummas, either weep not too quietly in the back or study the tiled floor.

Desperate times do call for desperate measures, isn’t that what they say? (Though Jihoon wouldn’t call his action desperate, just close.)

Clasping onto the white-knuckled fist, Jihoon’s sure he’s getting a _look_ from Soonyoung but only keeps his face and expression straight.

The weak squeeze that returns is enough answer for him.

They’re making their way back, a bit behind the others, when a couple of cops stop them. Before Jihoon knows it, he’s stepped a foot in front.

Apparently unintimidated, the woman fishes out her badge to show before proceeding, “Kwon, Soonyoung ssi?”

“Yes, that’d be me,” Soonyoung replies in a voice so weak Jihoon’s afraid he’s gonna pass out.

“We’d like you to come with us,” the male officer supplies without delay, only then shifting his gaze to acknowledge Jihoon with something like a questioning look. “If that’s okay.”

Anyone could guess that doesn’t exactly please him. Jihoon can feel his face hardened as he tries keeping anything personal at bay. “Regarding what?”

“Jihoon.”

Yet it’s Soonyoung who makes Jihoon face him with a smile just as weak as his voice. Jihoon won’t disagree he’s _not_ taken aback by the action, that he’s anticipated it to some degree. But why is that?

“You can go ahead. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“This way, sir.”

That gentle touch on the small of his back is really something, because the next thing he knows the extensive hallway can’t be emptier.

_Damn._

Jihoon’s lost count of the turns he’s done in this inadequacy of a bed. Even the breathing exercise—a method which never fails him—didn’t help in the slightest bit.

Sitting up, he rakes fingers through his hair blowing raspberry at a few strands that manage to get in the way of his vision.

_He oughta be back by now. Where have they gone seriously? Maybe you should’ve just…_

_No._

_No, that’s not right. Why’d you of all people interfere, Lee Jihoon. You haven’t any rights to._

Disapproving of his own thoughts, the man lies down for the third time or so. He’s just done turning to the other side when there’s a creak behind him, then some shuffling around, before the hinge begins complaining once more.

“Where’re you going?”

“Oh! H-hey there!” Soonyoung sounds surprised. Of course he does. “Um, I’m just fetching my—”

Jihoon decides he has to face him—the man who was missing all evening, who is unadmittedly the cause of his relapsing insomnia, who seems frozen with his hand on the door handle. “Sleep here tonight,” it’s a watered-down command, but a command nonetheless.

“No way!” Soonyoung’s fast to stop him from getting out of bed, adding sheepishly after perceiving his reaction to have been somewhat misleading. “Y-you’ve got a bad shoulder after all.”

“Me having a bad shoulder means you can get _yourself_ shoulder cramps?” Jihoon gives the other man a look at the same time he’s willing himself unaffected of the hands on his wrists—even with a blanket shielding them from actually touching. Eventually though, he grudgingly spells it out because the other doesn’t seem to _get_ _it_. “We can sleep together.”

Two men can do that just fine, it’s not like nothing’s gonna happen anyway. Yet Soonyoung seems to have other thoughts, judging from his looking away alone. Jihoon suspects he might find the other’s cheeks flushing were the lights on.

If his tone’s come out as teasing, he’s got a legit reason for that. “Why aren’t you changing already.”

One way or the other his requests have to turn into threats in order to be effective, it seems. Soonyoung complies there and then, but before Jihoon can assess an empty feeling which floods his system as soon as his wrists are freed from the vice-like grip, there’s a loud _bang_.

He really should’ve left some lights on because as it appears, some idiot’s head’s made acquaintances with the bathroom door in the dark.

“Ah…ssh,” seethes Soonyoung after the ~~heartbreaking~~ headbreaking demonstration’s done.

Jihoon contemplates asking if he’s okay but then again—as if your mother passing suddenly isn’t enough, a door’s got to be in your way—who’d be? Doing so would rather be rubbing cooking salt into the open wound where platelets haven’t arrived.

So he stays put.

After several minutes of staring at a pale wall, void of anything but spider webs, the mattress behind him dips.

To think he sacrifices the thicker blanket to Soonyoung is incorrectly silly. Lee Jihoon is that kinda guy who can coexist with slides in winter so it’s not exactly ‘sacrificing’.

“Sorry, did I wake you up again?” comes Soonyoung’s timid voice and Jihoon can’t make up his mind whether that’s sounded too close, or too distant.

“What’d they wanna talk about?” he says instead.

Soonyoung doesn’t offer anything for a long time, letting out a sigh when he does. “You know the car that h-hit my mom? The truck driver-”

“You let them go.”

“Y-yeah, but how do you…?”

“I guessed.” _Cuz you’re too easy to read_. “Why?”

“Why not?”

 _Right, that’s only legit, according to Kwon Soonyoung’s logic,_ the corners of his lips curve up at the realization that he can’t beat it. Him. This man.

“It’s not like Mom’ll raise from her coffin even if I did…right?”—another pause, then— _“Please tell me I did the right thing.”_

Jihoon only meant to stay tight-lipped thinking the guy needed the time for himself; however at the rasp—the choking noise—he immediately shifts even though it means he’s now propping up on his ‘bad shoulder’. The back that faces him looks wilted and forlorn.

And he has yet to completely understand why—why Soonyoung would doubt it at all if that’s what he thinks, what he chose—but does regardless.

“I’m sure she’d be very proud, of your decision,” Jihoon mutters softly, hand going over to rest where he thinks the heart lays underneath—the muscle machine with so much to give others, yet leaving none to himself. “Don’t,” he makes it clear when the other shows signs of rolling over. “This is embarrassing enough as is.”

To compensate, Jihoon starts tapping gently on the other’s chest in a rhythm twice as slow his own heartbeats. (Were it in time with his heartbeats, well, that’d have been disastrous.)

The night filled with only crickets and birds chirping, Jihoon finds, is impeccably peaceful and calming, and he actually intends for it to stay that way if only something of bigger importance never crosses his mind.

“Go see an ophthalmologist while you’re here,” he breaks the silence.

“See a…what?”

When he’s become capable of caring for more than his own head is unclear—or that he’s capable of doing so even—but nothing beats Soonyoung being so predictable, naïve, too trustful of the world in the worrying department. Always being taken advantage of by ahjummas is one thing, but what if it’s something bigger involving loan sharks or being a surety for some jerk that never plans on paying him back?

“An eye doctor,” Jihoon replies calmly, or at least he tries.

“Oh. Yeah, maybe.” Soonyoung probably has on his signature sheepish smile, though the mood shifts slightly at his following question. “…How did you know to come?”

“Chan,” Jihoon can picture the other’s following ‘ah’ even though he isn’t seeing it. “How did you convince the hospital staff not to call me?” it’s his turn to ask.

“I lied to them,” Soonyoung gulps audibly—yes, Jihoon can hear the way his Adam’s apple works pretty fine—“that you were on an important meeting overseas and that you really respected my mom thus…”

Jihoon knows it’s about time he does this—it’s regarding his mother after all, and adding the fact that it _especially_ doesn’t matter now that she’s gone? He _has_ to do it—and Jihoon more than knows that this sham marriage thingy is gonna end prematurely anyway, so why resist the gravity?

Deep breath. “Soonyoung.”

“I- yes?”

But even so, in spite of all the knowing he does…

“Never mind.”

If Soonyoung wants to press further, he doesn’t.

And despite having mentally firmly instructed himself that the patting will continue only until those hiccups cease, one needn’t guess Jihoon slips before he gets to that, a squishy hand carefully resting on top of his being the last thing he registers.

_“You don’t have to answer or deny anything, just…listen to this old woman, alright?”_

_Around noon when they’d first met, this Mrs Jung surely had given off a not very friendly impression and Jihoon’d thought it was only expected of her—he was no girl, thus her plan of having a biological grandchild like any other grandmothers was probably ruined to the core._

_Only after their interaction, or the lack thereof, did a rather bitter thought blow up—that her status of being the mother or her seniority didn’t give her mouth the right to say as she pleased nor did it excuse her being forthright disrespectful towards those younger; it didn’t excuse a darn thing, for respect was a two-way street._

_Yet the woman who’d just led him by hand to the bed and was now sitting beside him, gave off a different feeling. A different ambiance. Which was probably what’d been holding him back from saying something unbecoming of a son-in-law-to-be, from doing anything but stay._

_In fact, Jihoon found himself nodding, and his heart thrumming._

_“And it’d be a shameful lie to say I was glad to be having another son,” she’d started with what almost made him rethink his decision. “But please believe me that I do now—think I was blessed by it—for it’s come back to me that, deep down, all I’ve ever wanted is for that brat to grow up and learn how to love someone other than himself. Because in order to do that, one must be able to take care of oneself first and you see, my Soonyoungie is such a mess even in his twenties, and am I gonna be there for him forever or what?”_

_Her smile was very faint, hardly there. But it was. He knew it was._

_“So now that he’s shown me how he’s got someone whom he can count and rely on and that person can do the same to him, my worries are no more. Though I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you growing up, what of a day like this.”_

_Yes, he was flustered that the topic was brought up without notice—that he hadn’t seen it coming thus was caught off guard by it._

_But alas when she suddenly reached for his hand, he didn’t snatch it away like he normally would—didn’t have the heart to._

_And soon he was bound to find out—how callused the hand now caressing his was, how timeworn._

_“Soonyoung, I know he can be a handful—have experienced that firsthand,” she’d carried on, undisturbed and definitely unaware of how her action was making him feel…thrown off balance, of sort. “But even if things don’t work out as a couple, it’d be nice if you can stay as close acquaintances, find comfort in each other, and part on good terms. After all, the best thing you can do is not to make them happy; it’s to not be in their way of happiness._

_“Consider that my blessings, which will always be with you, from this day to always.”_

_That was how he was brought to tears by the only blessings he’d ever get in this life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to our sunshine Wen Junhui.
> 
> (Think about it, he's the first on their 'annual' bday celebration, you know, like how Mingyu is the last one? And despite having 13 members, it's not nearly every month that there's a member's bday, like how they only got 5 different types in mbti?)


	5. Much of an exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, his hands find their way to be ungratefully clammy even when he keeps rubbing them on his tight pants—for no reason really since he knows there’s no expecting anyone tonight. He just does.  
> He also finds his senses to be quite strong these days.

Soonyoung goes back to work straight away after the cremation on the third day and Jihoon doesn’t quite understand how they let him like, isn’t a person with an unstable mind ineligible for operating an aircraft or something? Such person deserves being grounded! Though Jihoon could speak for himself about the going straight back to work.

But you see here, they aren’t the same kind of people. Soonyoung keeps bottling his emotions pretending to be okay when-

Okay, that’s just an excuse. Even if he won’t ever acknowledge it, it’s more than obvious he’s worried. About the person he isn’t supposed to get attached to. But worry and attachment are two separate things, aren’t they?

These days he isn’t too sure.

“It’s been _three_ _days_ ,” a grunt accompanies his mussing his hair.

Knowing fully all too well it’ll do him bad more than good agreeing to go, why did he do it? Loads of so-not-Lee-Jihoon things have been done as of late and that’s the real concern, _not_ whether or not Seungkwan has caught what he said (which he still hopes got muffled by the grunt).

“Then you should’ve been there to comfort him instead of mulling in my office,” apparently the younger does despite having emerged from the second floor a moment ago. “I understand she was never your mother, but anyone’d appreciate compassion in time like this, y’know?”

“And how do you suppose I do that when the guy isn’t even _there_? Tell me,” it’s a dare that at the same time could come off as a plea, if one listens well enough to catch onto the veiled desperation. For now, he indulges himself in the younger’s crestfallen expression.

“Is that so… He hasn’t been back for how long?”

“Three.”

Seemingly having fully taken in his slip-up, the younger stammers out a stiff laugh. “C-cut him some slack, Jihoon hyung. The guy’s grieving, f-for fuck’s sake.”

“Shut up if you don’t even know what you’re talking about,” warns Jihoon through a sigh. Though of course he wouldn’t expect less than a comeback to redeem his chipped self-esteem from the younger, who does just that.

“Well then,” Seungkwan holds his nose higher this time. “How’d you find time to keep track of that considering you’ve been holding my sofa hostage _and_ working twelve hours a day as per usual in the meantime?”

Jihoon acknowledges no more than an ‘I have a way’, to which Seungkwan snorts disapprovingly.

“It’s no wonder Master went straight back to work,” the younger muses for anyone in the vicinity to hear. “Just imagine being in mourning and having to come home to a sadistic creepy h-”

“What’d you mean by creepy?” he snaps. Second warning.

“So I take it you acknowledged sadistic?”

Another heavy exhale, lips stretched into a thin line. “Forget it.”

“Can’t. Talk to me, hyung.”

Eyes squeezed shut, a crease between them brows. “He wasn’t there to scatter her ash. They asked me to do it in his stead, which I didn’t because it just…felt wrong.”

A head tilt. “Does that translate into ‘I’m worried about him’?”

That pulls Jihoon out of his reclaimed calmness again. “—No! It means the bastard left me to deal with those busybody relatives of his alone!” It feels strange—more than strange—to be talking behind your (supposed) partner’s back or whatever. That’s always occurred to him to be something only couples do—something they aren’t, but here he is. “I shouldn’t have stayed,” he adds quietly.

“But you did,” Seungkwan finishes for him. “For your information, I’m sincerely nowhere near convinced that’s the reason you’ve become this slumped mash.”

“Not my problem,” retorts he stubbornly, in true Lee Jihoon’s fashion.

It’s hush for a moment. The older eventually un-buries his head from within his arms.

“It’s also been three days since”— _ah fuck it_ —“I might or might not have taken up that invitation.”

To utterly crush the scarcely existing expectation of his, the make-up artist’s laugh that follows is as hysterical as it always is when coming down to the older’s suffering, if only to add to his infuriation (and misery).

“Waitwaitwait, so you actually told him ‘yes, I’d love to go see a striptease with you’ and got leftonread? I—” Seungkwan’s having a hard time to stay intelligible between catching his breath and it’s only a matter of seconds before another nasty cackle takes over.

“It hasn’t even been read to begin with,” at least his own smack grants Jihoon a very satisfying sound. “And if you wanna remember, do it correctly. It’s a mere concert, just set in-”

“ _Nae_ _nae_ _nae_ ,” Seungkwan, showing no pain at all, concedes in a tone a toddler can tell is mocking. Still Jihoon deems the topic dropped since the younger’s always like that whenever bitter, but then- “ _Ha_ , you expected me to say that right? A mere concert my ass!”

The veins in his head throb louder than they should.

Seungkwan only leans closer with both hands supporting his face, expression philosophically provoking. “Karma’s onto something these days, don’t you think?”

“Yah—”

“My unasked opinion? Confess.”

“Confess _what_?” As to be expected, Jihoon snaps at him with an utmost scandalized look.

Seungkwan, abusing his power as the manager, hauls himself to sit on the glossy wooden surface which is supposed to be where guests booze and snack _and_ almost slips off in the process of trying too hard to look cool.

Jihoon doesn’t call him out as there’s no point, just glares at him until he can’t take it and gives in on his own.

“I mean, why else would you be this worked up, hyung? You didn’t even bat an eye when your apartment complex caught on fire,” ungratefully Seungkwan _does_ call him out. “Never thought our beloved Jihoon hyung to be so transparent. It’s obvious you like him, dummy!”

He swears the younger would’ve smacked him to go with that if not for his-

“Whose apartment caught on fire?”

Were that someone else it would’ve elicited some kind of reaction, but years of working together have taught them a thing or two about Wen Junhui—that includes to materialize out of the blue and flow into the conversation slippery like a fish.

Seungkwan indicates a no with his index, then points at his right chest where the beating organ is supposed to be while stage-whispering, “ _Not an apartment but a heart_.”

Jihoon hasn’t the time to uncrook the self-concluded statement because it takes a blink of an eye for Junhui to figure out the context, two blinks for him to start screeching, “ _Ohmygod_ _isn’t the show_ today, _why’re_ _you_ _still_ _here?! And you sure are going out in those clothes?_ ”

“With a fake husband who’s been ignoring my texts?”

“Yes, with _the_ fake husband who _at?_ ”

Seungkwan nods ruefully to confirm him whereas Jihoon pointedly opens his laptop again and goes back to clicking around—though don’t expect him to be doing any actual job, not when he’s this awfully distracted. The tallest begins pacing back and forth in thought, clapping once when he’s done.

“Okay, change of plan”—Junhui motions between Jihoon and himself—“you and me, we’re going out.”

“Don’t overpush it,” Jihoon makes a noise.

First, why can’t he just have back his usual day-in-day-out uneventful life? Second, why does everything have to revolve around the stupid guy who won’t respond to his messages which’s all but made his life a hundred times more fucking difficult because now these persistent pudding heads won’t. Learn to mind their own fucking business.

“—But the place is quite good. A friend of mine works there so I was invited one time and-” the rap abruptly comes to a stop, much to Jihoon’s liking. “ _My_ _point_ _is_ , a fake or not Landlord was clearly asking you out _right_ _there_ , man. He _will_ show up,” Junhui finishes off with a wink reserved only for their smallest friend, knocking twice on the countertop for emphasis.

“What if it’s really just his mom?” That was truthfully his last card. If it still doesn’t work then-

“Then he wouldn’t have gone as far as to ask you _out_. Twice at that.” The last part starts to make some sense but Jihoon doesn’t feel like boosting up the taller’s ego and deflating his own in the process so he stays mute. “And we all know I’m never wrong about this stuff,” Junhui adds half-serious.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hence why you’re going out tonight.”

Even his own quip backfires on him, his life indeed has reached _that_ _point_.

“Fucking leave me alone, _please_ ,” the small man makes to walk away—something he should’ve done a long time ago, to a good deal of people—but is blocked by strong arms on his.

He must’ve looked royally pathetic somewhat, because Junhui’s grip soon loosens like his frown. “The thing’s from his mom—practically the last thing she did for you both, ain’t it? What reason is there for him _not_ to show up?”

 _Technically that’d be the curtains._ “How about, that’d only make him think of her more and go full mode depressed?”

“I was right! This hyung’s got feelings like normal people!” Boo Seungkwan sincerely knows no time to chime in. “Worry is an emotion, too, y’know!” he throws in more once safely cowering behind Junhui who as always seems unbothered.

“Go have fun, it’s just a concert. You need to loosen yourself anyway. This marriage’s been all but stressing you out, bud. _Nothing good, nothing good_ ,” Junhui mimics whom Jihoon deducts is a master from those Chinese action movies. “Or, think of this way: if Landlord doesn’t show up it’s his loss.”

The effort to end on a playful note hasn’t gone unnoticed by Jihoon. He appreciates it even. Still, he doesn’t budge—can’t.

Surprisingly the house dad opts for a sigh. “Come on, Jihoon, don’t be like this. How worse could it get? Haven’t you more or less nothing to lose now?”

Well, hasn’t he.

People stereotype him to be one thing and another due to his jobs, his background, his ambiguous persona if that counts, and just…Lee Jihoon? But the reality in this case is at odds with the presumption. And for all Jihoon knows, these two’s intention is clear as day: nothing short of getting _Jihoon_ laid.

Which is why they are shitting confetti over the microscopic possibility of the invitation in question being anything more than friendly as if it was either of them being asked ~~out~~ —the invitation Jihoon isn’t too sure still stands. (In other cases Jihoon might fall for it but this is the ever amiable Kwon Soonyoung they’re talking about.)

But if even _they_ are able to hope, can Jihoon?

“Well, if you put it that way-”

Could be the way his fingers instinctively go to fiddle with his sweater paws or the ‘I’m never wrong about this stuff’ but Jihoon’s acquiescence never get to see its end, for Junhui begins recreating his speed talking—another quirk the man takes pride in.

“Oh my, ain’t we wasting time! Come come, I’ve learnt a little of this and that from Haohao so trust me with a lightning make-over”—his long neck whips the other way—“Manager nim, are we allowed a day off with one of us might return half way through should things play out rather nicely? It’s an urgent matter, you see- Oh another thing, you in?”

Said man’s already jumping to stand on his feet and cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect. “Why ask the obvious.”

Jihoon isn’t one to believe things until proven true. But from the look of it, the praises about the place (or the band playing) must have some truth to them. Adding to it that Junhui was (re)telling him how, and Jihoon quotes, ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ the venue is while they were in the car.

Finding a spot to park becomes tougher a task considering the sea of people standing in what should’ve been lines but gets mushed together waiting to get in. Joining them, he opts that time for reminding Junhui who doesn’t bother masking his excitement that first and foremost, no one’s getting any hook up, toward which the latter just makes a shrug.

His logic behind this is simple: Junhui’s already got a boyfriend who’s still alive and well; and while tiny misunderstanding and a speck of possessiveness might help the story towards its goal, Jihoon can’t rest assured _which_ goal they’re talking about. In other words, that should only work if his subject has ever the slightest interest in him, which he most likely doesn’t.

Plus, although he may be married only on the paper, some basic human decency shouldn’t do harm. That’s why the navy blue band is loose on his ring finger—Jihoon clenches his right fist to feel its soothing smoothness—whereas the make-up, styled hair, and clothes are just for…

Well, if Jihoon was to be honest, he thinks Junhui lied about taking after styling from his boyfriend since _these_ aren’t close to what he believes Minghao’d go for.

The choices consist of a turtleneck under a cropped leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a belt with dangling key rings and some chains which, by all means, not the worst they could’ve picked—Jihoon may have taken a liking towards what he saw in the mirror more than what he led on, but with their already overinflated confidence and sky-touching ego that’s all they would get.

And for all he cares, Jihoon needn’t a reminder of how exceptionally good black looks on him, the color complementing his otherwise pale complexion, but people unconditionally give him some anyway if the glances being sent their way are any indications.

Beside him he knows Junhui’s smirking in satisfaction, bets Seungkwan’ll be doing the same once he knows of this—which he will, however displeasingly for Jihoon—yet Jihoon doesn’t have it in him to smack it off.

Alas, his hands find their way to be ungratefully clammy even when he keeps rubbing them on his tight pants—for no reason really since he knows there’s no expecting anyone tonight. He just does.

He also finds his senses to be quite strong these days.

“Relax, the night’s _barely_ started,” Junhui decides to tease his smaller friend a little upon seeing him looking very much like a cat on a hot tin roof. “And…looks like I get to be your official-unofficial wingman?”

The moment they’ve made it past the entry and bouncers, Jihoon returns with, “Minghao texted me, ‘don’t be back too late’. Who’d you think that’s for?”

It’s a white lie just to distract the guy, which works adequately as the taller shuts his mouth _but_ proceeds to wink at a girl whom they’re passing by while going down the stairs to get to where the band’s supposed to play anyway. Good thing she doesn’t reciprocate or Jihoon may’ve had to dictate they call it a night when it’s _barely_ started indeed.

It’s actually not useless—the fact that Junhui’s familiar with the place because at the very least they never get lost along the way, what with so many floors, sections, and miscellaneous doors in the almost entirely below sea-level building.

They don’t get lost _along_ _the_ _way_ , but Jihoon does lose Junhui not a minute after they’ve arrived with the taller male having yelled he had to go shake hands with an old friend before disappearing. Six songs, several drinks proffered to him, and a handful of persons trying to chat him up later—and even though calling doesn’t seem to go well with the blaring music—Jihoon find himself fishing his phone out, only to squint at his most recent texts.

**_Wen_ **

Wed, Sep 11, 9:47 PM

told ya so

have fun!

Wed, Sep 11, 9:52 PM

wdym wru

;))

im leaving then

Jihoon stalls for a few minutes in case the other resolves to knock off his stupid game and crawl back in because he’s not (that big of) a jerk. But he does have his limit and it reaches at the same time someone decides to make his day more miserable than it has already been by jostling against him, resulting in him losing his balance. His ass would’ve made allies with the floor—which wouldn’t be an excellent choice anywhere—if not for a hand to yank him back.

And Jihoon would’ve shoved that hand’s owner instead of the (literal) jerker who takes the advantage of the crowd and is gone faster than they’ve come, had his eyes not been fast enough to catch the person’s face first.

 _How did you get in here?_ arrives late on the tip of Jihoon’s tongue, which is why the other beats him to it after setting them both upright.

“Hey, y-you look good tonight.”

Jihoon thinks that a blush, though not so visible due to the blue-purple concert lights, on Soonyoung’s cheeks—both of which used to be full, now they’re half sunken and Jihoon wonders how that’s possible in the three days they hadn’t seen each other.

Or more like Jihoon hadn’t seen Soonyoung—who’s donning a red suit jacket two sizes too big over a simple black tee to match with subtly glossy dark pants with a striped bandana instead of an actual belt, and a pair of Chelsea boots.

 _You’re not so bad yourself_ is his instinctive response but _thanks_ is what he actually mutters back, feeling self-conscious with Soonyoung’s eyes _now_ , but not with the attention he got earlier at the entrance. Is that weird? Jihoon for one thinks it is.

“What?” Soonyoung offers the smaller his right ear, a little frown on his lips. Anticlimactically, Jihoon’s brain goes-

“Thanks,” he repeats louder, pulling his face away before his brain can finish formulating some _not_ funny thoughts. No one cares about double chin here if it means Kwon Soonyoung won’t be the only thing in his vision. _This damn music is too loud_. _Yes. That’s what you were going for._

_Your not nonexistent hope came true, someone showed up, now what. Ask if he came because of his mom just to demoralize yourself for fun?_

Fortunately or unfortunately, the taller comes up with another thing before long.

“How about we find a seat?” Soonyoung looks around as he says it.

Jihoon doesn’t know if that was Soonyoung seeing through his uncomfortableness or the man’s own uncomfortableness speaking, but nevertheless wordlessly nods and lets the one who suggested it them away from the bouncing bodies not looking too much into it.

Which he forgot would turn out to be a bad idea because, being the idiot that he is, Kwon Soonyoung couldn’t have chosen a better choice of a table than the one where the occupiers are all drinking and looking genuinely pissed out of their minds. (Though technically it’s thanks to a certain someone that insisted they stood instead of having their butts warm.)

To add to why it’s such a terrific decision, the restroom has to be located just behind; therefore, people have a (hopefully) legitimate reason for going back and forth the area behind their backs; one even bumps into Jihoon—on purpose or not he will never find out—since the chairs are basically stools.

Be it his backward glare trying to find the culprit or his ‘bad shoulder’—which by the way is just about healed—it gets him a protective arm around him and Jihoon doesn’t hesitate to redirect his glare to its owner. Though, he reckons it’s fair enough that the hold’s escapable with a casual shrug, Soonyoung compliantly letting his arm drop.

“I can manage,” Jihoon tries not to sound (too) annoyed. From the corner of his eye, a pout takes shape on the plump lips before vanishing at once. He notices just then how plump they are. How kissable.

Shaking himself out of what he knows is an absurd sentiment, he’s hit with yet another one—that despite having, admittedly, expected Soonyoung to show up (sure previously his heart might’ve accelerated its beats but that was mostly due to how fly the other was looking) now that the man’s right beside him _obnoxiously_ bobbing his head to the music, practically bouncing in his seat, and oblivious to the look Jihoon’s blatantly giving him; to say what he feels is giddiness or as they like to call it ‘over the moon’ doesn’t cut it. It’s rather relief. Right now at this moment he’s truly relieved.

But why _relieved_?

Relieved that Soonyoung still agreed to meet him even though it could’ve been the other way around? Or relieved that the man’s not breaking into pieces, on the crust at least? Or relief that, that…

Jihoon directs his gaze back front but zones out for the whole song regardless.

“How are you liking it so far?” Soonyoung asks when deems the time appropriate—another song’s just ended so soon he’s clapping along with the rest of the audience. Between them, ‘it’ can mean all sorts of things like their marriage, the house, life without a mother(-in-law), but Jihoon knows better than that.

And well, if Soonyoung’s keeping his distance from their yet to be acknowledged situation at hand, Jihoon’s more than glad to play dumb along.

Without looking at him, he replies, “Not my cup of tea, but it’s okay.”

“Then what is?”

_Your lips?_

A mental slap to his brain for not being very cooperative today—or whenever those starry eyes are near. He clears his throat and tries again. “Jazz, ballad?”

“That’s so _cool!_ I’ve never met a person with such tastes, now I do.”

The response is least expected, much less so Soonyoung looking downright genuine—a complete contrast to a son, whose mother suddenly passed away without allowing him even a last goodbye, who looked like the world— _his_ _world_ —had ended.

Jihoon blinks, thinks himself rightful to be baffled. Or concerned.

“Are you okay?” Soonyoung asks with more urgency.

A dry chuckle escapes his just as dry lips then because, _shouldn’t that have been my question? A guy with a dead mother comforts a guy with a dead mother-in-law, how ironic._ “I needa go-”

“Wait!”

It’d make more sense if Soonyoung’s meant to grab his wrist but missed resulting in Jihoon’s jacket now hanging off his shoulder, and Jihoon’s never fast to hide his unimpressed face.

Soonyoung’s either unnerved by that or finally able to crack where he was originally heading, letting go at once. “S-sorry, I-I thought—”

“It’s all good,” Jihoon huffs shrugging the leather thing back in place, Soonyoung’s eyes blatantly following the movement like it was some unthinkable divine move.

Truth be told he doesn’t need to use the restroom, not really, but rather a time-out. The look on Soonyoung’s face when realizing his mistake that managed to tuck at a weird string in him isn’t helping a tad bit.

The sound and sensation when his nails grate against something is one of the _very_ few things that manage to have Lee Jihoon recoil at the mere thought of it, yet funnily enough that’s exactly what he grants himself, palms gripping tightly on the sink’s edge.

Considering his composure retrieved after having an adequate amount of cold water splashed against his hot face, Jihoon leaves to go back out, is fretting about what other small talk is there in the globe when he’s made acknowledged his seat is currently occupied.

Long hair and a small frame, he needn’t a second look to know it’s a girl. Who’s leaning dangerously close to whisper something to the person next to her and chuckles afterward.

Being cheated on in your face must fucking hurt but that’s not what’s going down here, yet it’s the only explanation that fits what he’s feeling. But if the pang in his chest is any qualification, maybe hurt is in the mix as well.

He should’ve known it—that Soonyoung showed up tonight purely because Mrs Jung would’ve loved him to; that Soonyoung hasn’t brought up their due divorce which will soon become overdue out of respect for his late mother who’d set her heart and soul and her everything into getting them where they are; that Soonyoung hasn’t mentioned terminating their contract because he’s basically overwhelmed by grief.

That should be enough hints that there’s no place for a Lee Jihoon anywhere, and it’s only a matter of time before he ought to wake up from this nightmare in disguise of the contrary.

 _Forget about adultery, but how can someone ‘overwhelmed by grief’ have the heart to do that?_ something in him snaps. He can only placate it with: everyone has their own way of coping with things, thus regardless of how unhealthy it might sound, flirting someone up and possibly shagging them could very well be Kwon Soonyoung’s way.

Except, the fact that _he_ has no say in it is suffocating him alive.

Because no matter what he _would like_ to believe, Soonyoung bringing home someone—anyone—would and could never be his business. On the bright side, Seungcheol will be on cloud nine for this dongsaeng’s sleep over _and_ his sham husband’s charming to the point a random girl drops by, shouldn’t he be proud.

Four taps of the drum signify the start of yet another song, the hall bustling with noise again.

And Jihoon tries imagining if he had turned on his heels before the song started, if his vision wasn’t hypersensitive enough to catch the way Soonyoung’s ever so slightly leaning away with a stiff back; would he’d staunchly left the place despite not having an idea where the exit is?

He finds that to be all trivial rubbish

Because point is: _Kwon Soonyoung is one frustrating being._ Who makes to get up only to flump down again, held back by a mere hand—that of the chick who apparently doesn’t come to play, not wasting another second to put her free one on his knee, eyes permanently trained on him.

_What’s he so scared of? That it’d appear rude? All he cares is whether or not she finds him rude in this situation? How unbelievable-_

At least now he gets it.

It being the path he’s really supposed to take and, call it instinct or muscle memory, come out into the artificial light in a tread he only remembers using years ago.

How uncanny to see Soonyoung’s less than enthusiastic posture just so happen to match well with the very much enthusiastic way the hand is making up his thigh, up and up until-

Well, until it’s not on there anymore.

Now that they’re face to face, the chick appears more like an underage trying to pass herself off as an adult at best and he wouldn’t be surprised if she did bribe her way in here.

There’s already a taut feeling in his shoulder blade from whipping too fast and with those bitchy eyes on him instead. That alone assures him he’s got an upper hand in this.

However, at a quick glance to the right, _Soonyoung’s_ aren’t all that unwavering, which’s only strange because he believes the guy handles a beer or ten of them every other day or so.

Unless there’s more than meets the eye.

To his luck, the girl seems still impervious to his intervention and oblivious to his swiftly casting an unobtrusive glance behind them. Not quite to his luck, what’s on the table half confirms his theory. He can only hope his bartender instinct isn’t all that strong and that he’s wrong for once.

With the situation as readable as Kwon Soonyoung himself, Jihoon does know exactly what to do. The only thing stopping him is whether or not it’s _his_ place to.

 _This is so that we’re even. No nothing owed whatsoever._ Alas, to Soonyoung he simply instructs, “Get up.”

Her eyes overdone with colors and shadow widen, the girl hisses like she can’t believe what she heard—that her potential one-nighter is being snatched away right before her very significant existence. “Excuse _you_?”

While Jihoon thinks she should’ve seen this coming, Soonyoung’s being a Soonyoung: counterproductively frozen in his seat, eyes rapidly flitting between the two people, never taking any cues at all, nonresponsive to Jihoon’s aggressively growing tugging.

He’ll admit it’s a bold move—loads bolder than the deeds he’s done at Mrs Jung’s funeral—but all things considered it leads him to resort to one-second-previously nonexistent plan B.

Circling his arms around the man’s neck with one hand playing with the ear that feels hot against his touch for the navy blue band to hopefully do its thing, Jihoon gets surprised—reasonably terrified—faces from both, as expected.

What he _didn’t_ expect is for Soonyoung’s expression to gradually morph into something else and an arm snaking around his waist. _So he’s only taking cues_ now _, and exclusively physical ones?_

 _I mean, look at his apple-shaped ear, ain’t it so lusciously red—like ripe tomato? Well, the only way to know if it’d also_ taste _like one would be by-_

Trying and failing at shooing away the thought of some not funny business coming back to haunt him, he leaves it alone to swim in his head—if only it’d do exactly that and not get blood to rush below his stomach as a one-plus-one. When all this show is over, somebody’d better be grateful he’s embarrassing himself just to save his ass.

He imagines ‘Who’s she?’ would be what’s normally asked in this situation; acknowledging her presence, however, is the last on his wish list right now so as you’d guess he finds his way around it.

Jihoon’s lone raised brow posts a million questions, and maybe something more; Soonyoung merely lifts the left corner of his mouth so he takes it as a go and leans in.

His eyes steady on the girl’s seething ones—that much splinter of her presence’s required for this to do its trick—Jihoon mimics her previous action of murmuring ever so teasingly into the ear unofficially picked on for tonight, lips close enough he could carry on with his previous idea. (Woah there though, did Soonyoung just _flutter_ his eyes shut?) “Should I be insecure or shall we go?”

Those eyes do fly open but it’s a shame that alone isn’t enough to stir the man out of his high he’s probably having. Jihoon can’t possibly lean in any closer so, despite knowing this can never be a good idea, he trusts more of his weight on the other, eyes purely on him this time.

“I’d say you’ve been spiked.”

To Jihoon’s small relief, his reaction finally comes in the form of Soonyoung rising up from the damn backless seat, which in turn almost knocks Jihoon off balance that he has to cling to the man tighter before finding his footing again in a speed he doesn’t regret or by now they’d be on the anything but germ-free floor for other drunkards to trample.

The bint’s been obediently muted for the entirety of their make-believe PDA, so why she can’t stay that way—no flying fig given whether she’s faking it or not—for a little longer Jihoon doesn’t know. But now that he has to come with something to humor her which honestly could’ve been avoidable, his annoyance can’t help but be sprouted.

Jihoon acts fast and generally speaking, there’s no serious harm done—just him twisting behind her an arm that’s attempted to hang onto Soonyoung’s other side before shoving her towards the chairs so she’ll at least have some leverage. It’s his usual trick to assess the opponent’s level of self-defense and from how she was almost _not only_ metaphorically swept off her feet, he’s gonna say she’s a naïf.

“Fuck off,” he growls. Regrettably it cracked a bit, probably due to having not been in use for long. But that’s alright, the bitch must’ve regained her senses by now.

“W-what if I don’t?! Whatcha gonna do huh?!”

_Ah maybe not yet?_

Anyway, despite the immature audacious taunting, it’s enough that the terror in her eyes is prominent—and maybe there’s currently steam coming out of her ears should he be a little imaginative about it.

He probably ought to report her but isn’t sure of the protocol here, thus the bitch who may not get her self-confidence back for a while (serves her right) gets away with both underage drinking and attempted drugging for now. To butt head-on into other people’s affair isn’t a recommended lifestyle after all—at least Jihoon has never heard of that being advertised.

Leaning down, he finishes in a whisper, “Please do while I’m being nice, hmm?” A bogus little smile for effect, and he’s walking back to Soonyoung whom a wall is his current support.

“Sorry about back there,” Soonyoung says under his breath as soon as the deafening occurrence’s shut away by the elevator door, retreating his hands to himself and putting excessive space between them.

 _For being too nice to tell the girl to get lost, or for looking like I burn you every single fucking time we so much as come into contact?_ Jihoon feels his inside being squeezed into a tube.

“Did you drink it—what she gave you?” he asks for how Soonyoung’s standing fine by himself _now_ doesn’t sit well with him.

“No.”

_At least there’s that._

“Just lifted it to my mouth but I swear-”

 _Whoops, not so fast_. Jihoon sighs, “That’s exactly what she wanted you to-”

The elevator decides to break off their case by suddenly shaking once, twice, before stilling. Jihoon thinks he heard a shriek before he could even get to reopening his eyes.

“Height does nothing to you but not darkness?” he tries to joke in spite of—for the sake’s of—their awkward situation, but eventually notices the other’s breathing sounding more and more labored in the back corner. “Soonyoung?”

Another quake comes, this time granting him warmth and arms around his waist yet again. The addition is a weight crushing his shoulder.

He tries patting the greasy hair but the arms around him only tighten, then it’s obvious the man’s out by the way he’s leaning too much on Jihoon. Who isn’t given much time to process anything before the stupid thing decides to start working again, its lights coming back to life and in time its doors opening to a different floor and people filing in.

It takes all of his strength to haul them to the back, away from the others, adjusting them into a position where he’s kinda trusting both their weights to the wall and not on verge of being pulled down to the mucky floor.

At some point (after the jinxed box’s opened its doors a few more times, more people filing in and out), they arrive back at the ground floor and Jihoon starts their way home with the big idiot passing out on his back.

Normally he’d steer away from anyone whose hair is in the state of yuckiness, let alone touching it.

So, has he been wrong about himself all this time or, to Lee Jihoon, Kwon Soonyoung’s that much of an exception?

A metro person that he is, hailing a cab is considerably a new concept to Jihoon. Not only is its cost generally higher, one also has to take being taken advantage of the fare into account.

The reason to his failing to stick to his economical lifestyle is not someone else’s wallet that can surely afford said transportation fare without a glitch right that’s right there with him, but because going down and up flights of stairs with a grown dude on his back is in no way an appealing idea. Not to mention it’d look awfully like he’s abducting said man.

Done paying the driver who couldn’t be worst at hiding the fact that he was sneaking desultory glances at them via the rearview mirror throughout the journey, Jihoon doesn’t feel the need to thank the old man and just concentrates on not tripping over a few steps of stairs up the familiar porch to the familiar front door of the familiar house.

He has to set the unconscious against the railing in order to properly search for his keys, picks him back up when done unlocking the wooden bar, and kicks it closed with his foot on his way in.

By fair means, Jihoon hasn’t any potent explanation for: why he doesn’t just leave Soonyoung to shiver on a couch—which he knows the guy will—and go to sleep, but instead puts all his energy into making it up the main staircase; why he bothers with trying the man’s bedroom door to find it unlocked and with delivering him to the nice inviting bed in an unusual non-savage manner; why he even goes so far as to make a burrito of the soft blanket around the body.

Kwon Soonyoung is one extraordinaire.

However Jihoon looks at it, the man’s life is an utter disorganization it’s no surprise the same goes to his room. Recalling the moving-in day, he figures the tidy bedroom must’ve been for first impression.

Now though, even with the man occupying the space, a clear evidence that the bed was unmade before remains. What with it looking like someone made a shower out of all pillows, the closet’s drawers haphazardly pulled out, different types of clothes that are supposed to be folded mixed, jackets and suits about to leave their respective hangers, piles of dirty clothes on the floor—scratch that, they aren’t even in piles.

He’s fully aware the man’s in mourning but that doesn’t mean this whole scenario is any less sad. No, it’s not the bedroom with lack of care but rather—just like Chan’s warned him—Kwon Soonyoung acting like he’s okay, that everything is fine and Jihoon’s not talking about to _him_ exclusively but anybody. From how here greatly clashes with the rest of the house, which is in the state of _normal_ clutter, it can only mean one thing: it’s intentional—meaning Soonyoung deliberately keeps it in his room and his room only.

“You should’ve stuck to it…ignoring me and all that,” he blurts to no one in particular. There’s no one listening anyway. “Why bothered showing up at all. Now I can’t get it off…” _That hope…_

Jihoon holds his hand back from brushing away hairs that are in the man’s peaceful face and gets off the bed, careful not to make excessive noise.

Leaving the room, he can’t help the one last look at the softly snoring body bundled up in a comforter cocoon, eyes back on the jutted out oh so kissable lips in an instant but snaps himself out of it just as fast.

_Bruh, someone urgently needs a reality check._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late birthday to Kwon Hoshi, the man who wishes himself happy birthday.
> 
> On the 15th I watched his 15-min bday vlive (no subs, understood up till he brought up the cake bought by his gym trainer? Tiger plushies everywhere, Minghao's beautiful as always painting and his cute little 'family' typo, and hello there Jeonghan).
> 
> Then I went to see Jun's. and wondered how he did that for an hour and a half... Kudos to him. That's a lot of improvement regarding not being awkward when in front of camera alone, comparing to that one bday vlive years back. And I have to say, him resisting the urge to spoil throughout the vlive is very endearing lol


	6. Demand-supply laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So?” Seungkwan prompts when the older seems to be done texting. Beside him, Hansol seems as much on tenterhooks as he.  
> Jihoon on the other hand is this close to chucking his phone at either of their awaiting open mouths—and he would if the reparation cost wouldn’t make him live off instant ramyun for a fortnight—but resolves to run his fingers through his hair while flaring hot breath through his nose in exasperation and plausibly desperation, before his cap’s returned to its place in practiced ease.  
> “One of you needs to cover for me tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm no Japanese. Pardon any misuse of vocab ahead.  
> A/N: imagine the sensu to be the size of Temari’s or sth.

“Find me as soon as Wen gets here.”

The sudden unyielding yet simple request gets both Hansol and Seungkwan to look up.

It’s two days later. Jihoon and Hansol are having a discussion over a couple of rap lines the latter came up with—technically it ended a while ago but the three are still fixed to their seats—whereas Seungkwan’s here to check on his favorite staff. (Obviously not Jihoon.)

“He won’t,” the manager chirps in response like that’s not a problem in itself.

“Again?”

Takes an expectant cocked brow for the one person with answer to spill, albeit slowly just to irk him. “Something along…Junnie hyung lost Minghao hyung’s precious set of earrings”—Seungkwan finally meets eyes with the older—“the night he took you out.”

That only gets Jihoon’s other brow to knot with the first one. “But he didn’t tell me?”

Seungkwan coughs again, suddenly sporting that despicable knowing look on his face. “You’re in a head-over-heels phase with your man so he decided- ow!”

“ _What?_ ” Hansol lets out, surprised, eyes blown wide and mouth forming a big o, at the same time Seungkwan goes:

“What?!” as he tries and fails to dodge another head smack from Jihoon.

Hansol finally pulls his headphone down to rest around his neck. “Did I hear wrong?”

“Yes, you did.” Jihoon hopes his tone is deadpan enough, mouthing to the gossipmonger with a hand making a neck-cutting gesture: _Shut up if you wanna keep your head attached to your neck._

With the tense atmosphere and no one saying anything out loud, the young DJ shrugs easily. “What about his special he’s been so excited about since last week?” Hansol reminds everyone that needs to be. “Didn’t Junnie hyung keep repeating the song’s so awesome he can’t wait for today to hit?”

_Fucking Wen Junhui, of all days to be missing._

That sharply prompts them back to serious mode when Jihoon feels vibration in his hoodie pouch.

_Speak of the devil._

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Sep 13, 6:48 PM

hey jihoon

in a fight w haohao again

thing is

there’s this ma’am coming to see the show

my show

so what i’m saying is

plz help me out

think of it as payback for my styling

For starters, they _never_ use names in texting—not real ones anyway—it’s safe to say that anything but good news is on its way.

‘Your life your problem’ is on the tip of his tongue (fingers) but Jihoon decides against that since it’s not very like Wen Junhui to miss his special stages—even more so the ones he’s _been_ eager about. The fight with Minghao this time must be pretty serious—as in, there’s more to a mere pair of earrings than meets the eye (or else).

Then his heart drops to his feet. For the worst reason.

It has nothing to do with anything mentioned above, and the more the man rereads the more he’s convinced.

_my show_

_plz help me out_

At least it’s one hassle avoided that the younger two don’t throw questions as to why Jihoon suddenly gets up and walks to the corner—that, or they’re too engrossed in making hearteyes to one another other.

Two full lungs of air do nothing to calm him down as expected because, as if anyone could be calm in this I’m-about-to-be-screwed-or-I-already-am situation.

Anyhow, first approach to any impending catastrophe: feign innocence.

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Sep 13, 6:51 PM

didnt find the joke really funny

do you expect me to dance

or know how to

jihoon, i’m sorry

but promise me you’ll do it

then i’ll talk

no you talk now

.

i know you’re woozi

have known

First bomb’s been dropped but Jihoon knows better that there’ll be a second one that’s much bigger—there’s just gotta be.

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Sep 13, 6:54 PM

how why

talk now or else

trust me when i say i don’t wanna do this

it was hard to get her here

get to the point

she’s my mark, jihoon

Now things start to make sense: why it didn’t before, why Junhui’s so being pushy about the performance, why he can’t wait for a later time, why Jihoon _only_ when the other dancers they have aren’t exactly newbies.

So to the second approach: compromise.

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Sep 13, 6:57 PM

youre a jerk you know that

btw did you forget we have a ton other dancers

why me

like i said, can’t risk her slip away

so can’t trust her with anyone else

but i know i can trust you

it was a long time ago

besides, the song fits you

really

not a reason

less a valid one

there’s still her somewhere in u

that much i know

plz

First of all, to hell with all for the compliment—yes, he’s easily flattered like that. Second of all, has it ever crossed Junhui’s mind that what he’s asking can ~~potentially~~ undoubtedly blowing Jihoon’s off-record past? No matter how serious this woman case, nothing will be comparable to the aftereffect should a word of it gets out.

He knows it should be considered unhealthy, the amount of speculation he puts into what those so-called impeccable people see them as:

_The pathetic who don’t try hard enough in life they resort to selling their body because it’s easier (in a meal course, this’d be an appetizer),_

_The soulless who make money off of immoral deeds,_

_Deplorable creatures unworthy of being called humans (even this too),_

_Disgrace to humanity-_

But in all fairness, these very same people don’t know and don’t try to understand why they are what they are in the first place. Blame the victim but not the cause. Never the cause.

It’s like he’s on God’s blacklist, for the more he wants that specific time of his life gone from the world it only keeps coming back. And unlike last time, Jihoon will surely be on people’s blacklist. This time for good.

Yet maybe, just maybe, it’s not God’s list or anyone’s Jihoon’s on, but his own.

By hating and wanting to forget a part that took participation in molding a Lee Jihoon into the Lee Jihoon he’s today, he’s lost even more of his identity, his own authenticity, and essentially _himself_ along the way.

Maybe it’s time he faces it. His demon.

Jihoon starts typing again.

**_Wen_ **

Fri, Sep 13, 7:04 PM

find the darn earrings goddamnit

don’t u think i’m trying very hard to?

so how do you know shell like me

my show

cuz you’re the new girl

wAIT

oh for all the uncrooked deeds i’ve done!

thank you, Jihoon

youll be my first murder

yes, i’m very honored

really owe u my life now

its explanation you jerk

“So?” Seungkwan prompts when the older seems to be done texting. Beside him, Hansol seems as much on tenterhooks as he.

On the other hand, Jihoon who is _this_ close to chucking his phone at either of their awaiting open mouths—and he would if the reparation cost wouldn’t make him live off instant ramyun for a fortnight—runs his fingers through his hair while flaring hot breath through his nose in exasperation and plausibly desperation, before his cap’s returned to its place in practiced ease.

“One of you needs to cover for me tonight.”

“Rumors about hyung’s past must be true then?” Hansol comments quietly to Seungkwan, who’s leaning against the DJ booth tapping his foot uncontrollably and looking tremendously nervous he could perfectly pass off as the to-be-performer himself.

Both have been looking in the same direction: the stockroom where Jihoon made Seungkwan clear everyone out, where the small man’s also been quarantining himself in from that point on. It’s not the best choice for a practice room but it cuts the mustard with a few mirrors they’ve got in there.

Current time is half past eight, still hours away from when the show’s usually scheduled at. Despite their final decision not to make any change to the posters around the house—it’s too late for that anyway—and the common knowledge that words travel fast; the ticket sale’s going well, maybe even better than Junhui’s usual.

Seungkwan stops moving his foot to sigh. “Do elaborate, I don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

“Ain’t you always?” Getting a side-glare, Hansol chuckles. “Rumor has it that he’s a genius, not just in composing but dancing as well. Can create and master a piece in hours—like, if it was true why did he retire then?”

“You tell me.”

It’s a first that their diva know-it-all isn’t equipped with something that’s considerably gossip, and maybe Hansol’s slightly surprised by it.

“I-I’ll go tend the bar,” Seungkwan announces, suddenly self-conscious with the sole attention he’s getting.

“Work hard, newbie tender,” Hansol says good-naturedly and Seungkwan practically beams as he goes. “Ahhh can’t wait to know _what_ hyung’d come up with,” he adds to himself.

It cracks Jihoon up a little that, even though the guy is not here, his boyfriend is. And here he thought they were fighting, so shouldn’t Junhui be begging for forgiveness whatsoever right now? But then again, Wen is probably out there flipping the city for the jewelry or buying an exact new pair.

“Too much?” Minghao asks after noticing the older’s uncomfortable expression in the mirror. “Sorry, hyung, but I think you should blame Jun for this.”

“I’ll manage,” Jihoon huffs out, not even trying to sound convincing.

“Okay, let’s see,” Minghao gives it a good final tug, fussing with this and that a little more, before he goes to adjust the portable full-length mirror with attached bulbs for Jihoon to see the result. An unadulterated grin adorns the stylist’s lips. “It’s so fine, don’t you think?”

“I look bloated,” Jihoon deadpans for good measure. But after one turnaround he himself can’t deny what he’s seeing is a killer look—not with how the robes are in a slant manner making his left clavicle, up to the shoulder, stand out more than it should, which goes well with the concept they are going for.

The difference in their heights is why everything makes him so prone to tripping right now: from the white-to-blue ombré sleeves that effortlessly reach his ankle to the obi aka sash belt that’s tied in the back like a camel hump, its tails left suspended and dangling in the air, with koi of various colors rippling away in dark water and golden waves. Then there’s the blood-red juban aka under-robe that peeks at the collar and his feet when he trudges, and undeniably grabs attention with its color which clashes with both the kimono and his skin.

“You look fine. _Very_ fine,” Minghao assures him, his eyes disappear as he stresses the word.

“What about that one?” Jihoon says to avoid the pending awkwardness, gesturing to the plain black jacket still resting on a hanger. The only possible reason he brought it up is because black’s in some way his comfort color, like how ‘eight’ is Minghao’s lucky number. We all have that kinda thing.

“Ah, haori? This is furisode meaning…”

_If haori is the jacket, then furisode’d be…_

“How about this,” Minghao grins amusedly at the older’s blank expression. “Your sleeves are too long, so they don’t go together.”

At the other’s mention of said sleeves, Jihoon lets his fingertips trace loosely taking in the satisfying lush thick feeling of the silk. Being able to don in finery such as this one hell of a halfling kimono more or less reminds him of the old days, of bittersweet memories—more on the sweet side.

“You’re liking it,” Minghao observes, smile all mushy, and Jihoon’s reminded that since the bastard Junhui seems to know something, maybe could he possibly have told his boyfriend too? “I also made it unwind-able. Here, give it a try.”

Jihoon isn’t too sure which end of it the younger’s given him, but all that seems intricate and beautiful really comes undone in a single tug. Quite impressive.

“Easy, right?” Minghao looks unmistakably proud of his creation. “Now we can call in-”

“Hyung, we’ve got- _Oh_ _my_ _gosh!_ ” The door bang opens revealing none other than Seungkwan who thankfully remembers the manners and shuts it (and his mouth) before dashing to the dolled-up one in an instant. “Woah, what’d you do to the Lee Jihoon whose closet only contains tees, hoodies, sweats, and jeans?”

“Like you weren’t the one turning me into a ghost,” Jihoon refers to the white-face red-everything-else makeup, finding it a bit much mainly because he hasn’t been the subject of it in so long. To be honest it’s been equally long since he’s done any of _this_.

“Someone’s exaggerating again, what ghost,” the reason he made a big entrance earlier completely forgotten, Seungkwan glides happily to stand beside the stylist. The arms over the chest signify working mode, hence after a moment his brows lift themselves. “Don’t you think something’s missing from this pretty ghost?”

“Don’t ask me. My job’s done here,” Minghao dismisses.

The youngest makes some disapproving noises in his throat before he announces. “…I’ll be right back.”

“What about that, hyung?” Minghao motions with his chin when it’s just the two of them in the room again.

Jihoon lifts his hand to feel the circular object, ever so smooth and calm on his ring finger. “I shouldn’t, right?”

“I can keep it for you,” the younger male offers. “You know I won’t lose it like some fool.”

“You guys still fighting?” Jihoon pretends to perk up though his thought is elsewhere, fingers keep spinning the thing absentmindedly he’s afraid it’s become a habit of his.

“The real reason I’m mad is that he took them without asking.”

“So Wen only needs to apologize for that, and that’s it?”

“If done sincerely, why not. It’s true they’re precious since I got them from my old lady, but what’s lost is lost, hyung.”

Despite his words, the stylist’s reply was been all calm, untroubled. That gets Jihoon to think. And see that _this_ is what’s precious to him too.

He merely moves the ring in question to his index. “I think I’ll keep it on. Thanks anyway,” he tells the younger with something similar to a smile but not quite as Seungkwan bursts through the door again, breaking the calm and quiet with:

“Tada!”

 _And for the love of God_ -

In the younger’s delicately cradling arms is a wig with too much hair on it, and Jihoon thinks the amount of repulse he immediately feels for it is making his supper come out, only to realize he didn’t have any. Let’s just say everything good in his body is now spoiled—if there is any to begin with.

“Now _someone’s_ clearly exaggerating,” he makes his sentiment known in case the expression on his face is not enough. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m wearing _that_.”

“But, hyung, for completion!” Seungkwan’s whine comes fast like a lightning. “Besides, don’t look so offended when you’re already in a girl kimono.”

“Clothes have no gender,” Minghao quips through a cough from the chair in the corner he’s gone back to, some poetry book on his lap. “Thought you’ve known by now.”

“My bad then,” Seungkwan mock-bows before going back to the (more) stubborn guy. “Can we just try?”

Jihoon has no hesitancy whatsoever in shaking his head. “In case you’re slow, it’s a struggle to not trip in this long-ass robe with long-ass sleeve, so you’re either kidding or killing me.”

“It’s just a chignon so it won’t be that heavy.”

“That’s not the point here.” (Still, he hopes the younger’s telling the truth.)

“If you go out with a face like that, it’s too blatant you’re a dude,” Seungkwan starts digging up anything that’s to his advantage.

“And? I never wanted them to get the wrong idea. Besides, it’ll be one-time so who cares?”

“If you go out with hair like that, the patrons will blame us for not doing our jobs properly.”

The pouty face is so asking for a punch and Jihoon feels the long impending headache saying hi. “Only if they had any idea there’re people working behind the scene.”

“But…but I thought you had a spot for perfection.”

 _Someone sure knows how to push someone else’s buttons._ The room is tranquil for the eternity Jihoon screws his eyes shut.

“ _Just_ try?”

(Jihoon feels bad for his neck already, but how can he never be wrong in his life? Downside of people with too much _common_ _sense_? Even that doesn’t make him feel any better.)

Stepping back to give the performer a bit of space, the makeup artist looks clearly nervous for a reason, crossing his arms and biting his nails and all that jazz—they all know Lee Jihoon is gonna have his way in the end if he so much as wants. “W-what do you think?”

“Ornaments?” Jihoon says without missing a beat. The one who _does_ miss a beat is Seungkwan, or more like three beats, to make out the single quiet word, before sputtering he does.

“R-roger that!”

Only Boo Seungkwan holds confidence in such magnitude—the audacity to imitate a salute despite the dire situation—but would it be a shock to the world if Jihoon considers himself lucky to have such people around him?

Sometimes during the process of making songs which varies in time, he imagines it—how he’d want the performance to go; and some other times it’s the other way around.

This one being the latter case, it more or less explains why he didn’t feel that pressured while trying to come up with the stage. It was more like putting what he already had in mind to life.

So that was done and over with, the hair and makeup too. The only thing on his plate now is a lady whose face’s imprinted in his mind—well, that’s lesson 101 to being any type of spy. Still, Jihoon looks up the photo of her, brought to you by Wen Junhui, one last time before tossing his phone carelessly onto the makeshift chair.

His eyes falls on the mirror as those of his reflection stares back at him, realization hitting him that he’s venturing _so_ _much_.

With Boo Seungkwan’s ludicrously amazing makeup skills, he’s been transformed into full cross-dressing mode; together with the detached platform and stage lights, not a single soul shall be able to tell.

 _Just like the old time_ , a voice says.

_Is it worth it?_

That, he wasn’t sure at first.

Yes, Jihoon did say he wanted to tackle his demons—the sentiment that’s highly likely to have been impulsive and that alone is a good enough reason to not go on with this.

But the feeling, _this_ feeling: the newborn excitement that makes his blood run wild, the thrill that has his heart beat unmistakably loud in his ears.

Maybe he feels aroused. Maybe it’s sheer passion. Everything’s remote yet familiar in so many ways.

“Hyung, it’s time.”

Seungkwan coming in takes him by surprise but Jihoon knows better than to let on that he’s nervous, offering back nothing. The younger goes to grab the sensu and katana for him and wordlessly like that they head out.

The house is packed tonight, Jihoon can tell from the sharp roars of laughers and conversations so merging together it’s incomprehensible. The strobes are dimmed overall and Jihoon would’ve liked it if that didn’t double the possibility of him making a fool out of himself in the dark.

They reach the foot of the stage and the younger male turns back to him, looking like he has something to say. Jihoon’s about to ask him what when he just smiles strangely—as if to say ‘fighting’?—and without another word begins walking away to join Hansol at the DJ station, leaving the older to his thought and prospect of tripping once again.

So Jihoon diverts his focus to the audience, the crowd, faces that become indistinct due to the lack of lights. Only one patron in particular—the one with a big hat and towering silhouettes of bodyguards—is an exception. Somewhere secluded in the back sits the reason this is happening.

Seo Iseul or Saito Rin: next in line to one of the biggest yakuza gangs, though raised in Korea to avoid unwanted attention. And that’s as much as Junhui’s told him.

Tugging away the first and last reassuring smile he allows himself, Jihoon welcomes goosebumps as his bare feet graze the cold platform. It’s quite impressive how silent the hall can become in a matter of a second, all eyes already on him while he positions himself in the dark and flying smoke.

Tonight, there ain’t gonna be any slips. Or hesitation.

All is under control.

(He’ll learn it’s all _but_ _one_.)

He’s supposed to be here with Wonwoo but with the latter’s flight delayed, here Soonyoung is. Alone.

Which is fine, really. There’s nothing in the world a Kwon can’t handle, the only matter is how. And he feels like drinking anyway.

Takes a while to get past the formidable bouncers but he understands since the airports’ is supposed to be way worse. What he can’t accept though, is this group in front of him whom the female personnel at the entrance—door girl, is that what they’re called?—checks off from some list in her hand and lets inside upon their arrival, cutting the line in all other people’s faces. What’s with the double standard?

The incident’s soon forgotten thanks to the fascinating interior and hyped-up surroundings.

And only after he’s settled for a seat does Soonyoung notice them again—or rather _her_. The seemingly privileged lady among that cutting-line squad from before.

At the opposite side of the venue but further back, her place’s higher up enough that the outlook of the stage should be superb. With the men cladded in black suit Soonyoung assumes are her bodyguards at the front, sides, and back of her capacious seating; she does seem like a person who’d do first class.

(Economy class passengers are passengers too!)

Oh, has he mentioned the stage?

The initial plan was a wasted night with the bailing best friend Jeon, but while Soonyoung was carrying out the mission, alone, this bartender whose name he doesn’t remember came up—not exactly to him but next to him?—and began self-converse-whistle-ing about an _unimaginably_ special performance due tonight in the main hall which one ought to secure themselves a seat before the sell-out, all while rubbing the shot glass with disproportionate vigor.

“Are you talking to me?” Soonyoung’s asked back.

To which the male replied ‘Just anyone interested’, but not before giving him a judging look of some sort. (The way the other’s snorted simultaneously with a shrug was also very familiar, yet Soonyoung couldn’t pinpoint where he’d seen that before.)

So he pried further. “Will it be that good?”

‘I recommend first row’ was the reply. Soonyoung might’ve gasped at the confidence and if that bartender had taken offense he didn’t let any of it show, instead continuing with ‘If you need me I’ll be right there’ before moving to the other side.

Needless to say, the time he was unattended was spent turning the offer over and over.

It only made sense the guy would tryna talk him into it, he’d give him that. More tickets sold means more money, right?

And if he _thinks_ thinks about it, what he’d told Jihoon was nothing short of truth—that he was more thrilled about ‘the popular shows’ than the band playing. Unfortunately, the plan was cut short and they didn’t get to see any because of…circumstances. His chance was right here at his grasp so why not?

As it turned out not only it’s a first-row seat, the price was cut in half—the bartender guy saying something about early bird benefits. Soonyoung wouldn’t know if that was the truth, not that it’s of his concern.

The decision to stay might’ve not been his best one yet with his brain begging for its well-deserved rest as a new day is approaching. He tunes it out with an excuse of the night’s still young. Kwon Soonyoung is still young.

_Jung Seonhwa was still young too when she…_

The man immediately blinks away the sentiment, a big alarm blaring in his mind that he’s here to let himself loose not to be his own party pooper and cry in the middle of a pub. More importantly, what’s done is done. It’s not like he can turn back time or bring back his mom.

He looks around again and mentally thanks the mysterious bartender seeing how the venue is absolutely filled to capacity. The ones in the back probably won’t see much of what’ll be happening on stage.

No wonder the price. Demand-supply laws, eh.

Minutes away from midnight, the chatters become particularly louder—almost palpable—proving that the night is still young indeed. Or maybe that’s the alcohol in his system’s doing. However, if someone (most likely himself) is nuts enough to give it a trial run, he feels like a fallen needle can be heard the very second a petite silhouette penetrates through the smoke, upsetting some to slop over the verge onto the audience area.

A few dudes fake-cough at that thinking it’d make a good joke. To their strange luck, it does contribute to a less tense atmosphere and soon more laughers erupt.

Yet for all that whooping and catcalling, Soonyoung can’t care less—it’s like he’s just, mesmerized?—for this girl garbed in some sort of traditional Japanese clothing, whoever she is, _smells_ _good_.

The strong thud open of her big fan she carries with her hushes the hall again. And Soonyoung’s able to count one, two, three, and four before the music he’d call peculiar enters along with the lights. Peculiar and curious. Precisely how he feels at the moment.

It sets off with slow string sounds, serene and enthralling, and the dancer begins shifting ever so slightly behind her big fan. When the rhythm picks up and other instruments join in, her movements become more defined but still as—if not more—polished and graceful, one ought to melt.

Soonyoung would like to think he knows a thing or two about traditional dance. That being said, he’d grade these mere seconds into the art a perfect blend of classic and contemporary. This—she—is not just any dancer but a _professional_.

As if she could read his mind, the girl shows off her professionalism (and great reflexes) by way of swaying those hips of hers and being back at the center in a blink of an eye after a handful of _handful_ dudes have tried to make her trip, or worse pull her down, by way of grabbing at her long robe.

(Her looking natural _hot_ —natural and hot!—while at it only made it all the more mysterious, and it’d be a lie if Soonyoung says he isn’t intrigued.

But all being intrigued business aside, is it weird to say he was just as fumed by the incident—as in, had she fallen, he would’ve definitely thrown hands? For now he’ll take that as sympathy, nothing to do with him being charmed by her.)

Up to that point Soonyoung hasn’t doubted it’s the makeup’s brilliant doing, but a single glimpse at her milky white hand utterly convinced him otherwise—that that’s merely the skin tone she was born with. And as much he wants to deny, she does remind him of a certain someone.

(Turns out it’s not only her hand he’ll be getting glimpse of.)

In the span of less than an hour he’s been here may consist of a glass or two, and statistically speaking there’s a very slim possibility of it being able to get anyone anywhere so, what’s the real cause of his current hallucinating?

Proof? First runner is the shoulder.

The moment his hearing gives in to the crowd’s sudden hoots once more, Soonyoung’s rendered breathless by the sight. The girl’s somewhen switched to holding with a sheathed sword—also Japanese type called ‘katana’?—and with their vision impediment out of the way, the audience’s finally being able to see—or more precisely, leer at—what’s behind that giant fan.

Which, _factually_ , is just a shoulder. Just that it’s white as snow. Just that Soonyoung _remembers_ that shoulder—how can he not when he was putting antiseptic on it days ago? Could still make out the pinkish healing scar on there?

Second up is the eye.

There’s something about those perfectly curved brows and sharp eyes—even when distracted and obscured by the heavily layered adulterants. He can kinda say he knows them?

Third testament is those milky hands. And there he’s done saying his piece.

_What about that ring on her finger?_

_…What?_

His eyes flash up and…it’s really there! The wedding band he gave-

Notwithstanding the times his eyes can’t be trusted, this time around they can’t be wrong. It’s _him_. It’s Jihoon! The Lee Jihoon!

_But…how?_

So here are his choices: he can wait until the performance’s over and demand it directly, like a normal human; or he can…see for himself?

Before Soonyoung can think about what it is to be ‘human’, his arms have it all figured out, hauling him onto the elevated platform. It’s no surprise all eyes—especially of those guards positioned at each corner—flick to him instead of who Soonyoung isn’t sure he knows anymore.

In two strides their faces should be breaths away from one another and damn that two strides because, before Soonyoung can think about spelling ‘sword’, there’s something cold and rigid smack dab at the pulse in his neck—a friggin’ _blade_ if you haven’t figured that out.

This person’s reflex must be something else, because when did they even have the time to think of stepping outside the lighting parameter, much less _acting on it_? There hasn’t any sound indicating when the sword was being taken out!

Also, are they taking advantage of the dark solely so that Soonyoung can’t find out who they really are? Is it something like cats’ hiding instinct? Feel _that_ endangered while performing?

Well, to be fair, speaking from experience also since he’s currently in the spot; being in the light can kinda make you feel exposed—and it’s not meant only physically. Kinda like when you’re taking performance exam and all eyes are on you and how you fly?

Now onto his being impartial part; actually he saw the person freeze too, faltering a little, like they’d only registered what they’d done—he’s still a patron for God’s sake!—but even that only lasted for a flake of a second.

_I wonder if they perform using the actual stuff._

Judging from sporadic dramatic gasps, his next move must be quite the unthinkable. Grabbing the blade raw-handed, Soonyoung uses the requisite juncture everyone’s in the shock to tug the weapon wielder forth, back into the light.

_Judging from the burning sensation on his palms, the katana must not be a mock-up then._

It’s like time stops just for Soonyoung to have a clear look and be affirmed that it’s really _those_ _eyes_ his are having a glaring contest with; for him to acknowledge the solid feeling that his arm belongs _there_ , around the waist _he_ _knows_ he knows despite being buried underneath layers and layers of fabric; and for something in his chest to palpitate uncontrollably, it makes his guts twist.

While Soonyoung’s brain can’t choose a better time to conk out, utterly forgotten what it’s risked stealing everybody’s attention for; Jihoon winces a tad, an unreadable expression taking over by means of a blink—something Soonyoung isn’t allowed enough time to try interpret, for no sooner has the smaller gulped once, his red lips parted about to say something, than someone breaks the spell by separating them.

Or to be more precise, yanking one of them away.

From the corner of his eye as he’s being ousted by bulky dudes, something close to worry flashes by the pale face, before returning is that practiced impassive expression. As if nothing’s happened.

But even that is enough, for the show must go on.

Five to one is kinda a bet for him; but once taking the fact that his hand was hurt in the stupidest way earlier into consideration, Soonyoung doesn’t stand a chance. On a brighter note, he determines to own up to what he’s wronged back there anyway, just doesn’t know how to do that better other than shutting in like a turtle.

 _These guys must be_ drastically _nice, to be give out free lesson like this_ , a line comes up and Soonyoung feels like he can continue to hold his fists in place—albeit the tighter they’re clenched the more pain it brings. His legs, though, give in after so much, and their aggressive punches become kicks, which are just as aggressive.

Soonyoung hasn’t a regret in having learnt martial arts. At least it taught him what to do even if you’re the one giving way, just so it won’t hurt as much later.

He might regret having gotten a black belt in taekwondo though, for the urge to get back at them is like natural instinct—the instinct to survive—so would it be considered too much if Soonyoung thinks of patting himself on the shoulder, or maybe on the head, when all this is over?

The time he’s been lying by the side of the building, brittle cold ground making his skin grow number by degrees, must be quite something because his ears can’t even distinguish the throb in his head from someone’s footsteps _not_ sneaking up on him.

“That’s enough.”

Fascinating how the kicks cease that instant, and Jihoon’s voice somewhere above can compete that of the ground—brittle cold—Soonyoung finds himself thinking ruefully. Or bitterly.

“Now leave us. I’ll deal with him.”

He hears the dress shoes tread away, imagines the imprinting marks they must be making.

“Ow…my head. Must be from when I fell,” Soonyoung mutters incoherently just for the sake of it, even steels himself while expecting something along ‘you’re wasting my time’.

There goes a hefty huff, alright, then-

…Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The reason why he can remain stationary for a while longer is wholly because cracking even an eye requires so much of his willpower—even more so to see past the black spots, he’d reckon—but when he does it’s totally worth it.

“Wow,” is the only thing he manages—or cares to—for above him is a literal angel. _Breathtaking_.

“Get up,” Jihoon tells him without an emotion in his entire being—and that’s just one of a profusion of facts Soonyoung’s been trying to ignore tonight.

As you’d expect, he doesn’t.

Yet, contradictory to his voice which couldn’t have been more austere, what the smaller male does next excellently renders Soonyoung speechless—not that he hasn’t been in the first place.

Following some noise as if someone’s ripping up a piece of cloth, Soonyoung feels his left hand being lifted and the shooting pain has it recoiled at first, himself squeezing his eyes shut.

But the hold is firm and Soonyoung only registers what’s going on once his hand’s wrapped up nice and warm in a black rag, its seemingly unabating bleeding somewhat and somehow stopped.

“We need to talk,” Soonyoung acts before he misses his chance, tries blinking up (sideways as he’s still lying) at Jihoon for the second time.

But before he can focus past the extravagant robes—which by the way are fastened way more carelessly or just hanging on the wearer really—past the wig and makeup which is as strong a distraction and contrastingly and oddly intact, something gets in way of his vision. Something cottony. Did Jihoon just throw a layer from his robes in his face?

“Hold this high,” immediately comes an unrelenting instruction and Soonyoung feels his wounded hand being brought above his head before being let go—does he suppose he plays mannequin or something? “Now go home and get it cleaned, Kwon Soonyoung _ssi_.”

“But Jihoon-”

The moment he’s able to get whatever off his face off the ground, all left for him to catch is a tail of red disappearing behind the stout door which then closes with a starling thud.

His lingering gaze gradually drifts away from the static building, and that’s when Soonyoung makes out what’s lying within his grasp to be a black Japanese robe which, if he’s not mistaken, Jihoon was wearing on top of his other ones just now but not on stage. But why’d he have needed it when the rest should’ve been sufficient in terms of thickness in this weather unless…

Blinking back his focus for the nth time, again if he’s not mistaken, those are _footprints_ —pretty ones too—that he’s seeing?

_Did Jihoon come out here, in the cold, shoeless?_

Suddenly the chilliness or even the pain attacking him is a mere bagatelle, and Soonyoung feels it in his bones the first snow will come early this year.

Still and all, that lipstick mark on the other’s cheek is what’s bothering him.

**_Wen_ **

Sat, Sep 14, 1:16 AM

heard it went well

my all-time savior<3

oh </3

there i unhearted you

btw she rly thinks ur a girl lol

can i ask what u did

Sat, Sep 14, 1:26 AM

theres a difference between unheart and not heart at all

but whatever

just dont forget about our talk

i can’t even if i want to, can i

The longer he looks at the text the more he wants to be six feet under, so Jihoon puts his phone away and casts his eyes some rest.

“I can hear your brain whirring. Just fire away.”

He isn’t the type to find tiptoeing around someone so helpful, much less when he’s the subject of it—that, and the younger should know better than anyone.

The motion on his forehead halts for two seconds before resuming. “I don’t know what to, even with your permission,” Seungkwan disposes of the wipe, simultaneously fetching another; Jihoon’s lost count how many it’s been. “Not my place to dig up your past, is it.”

“Then don’t,” his tone’s unmoved, but that’s not to say the respect for his privacy’s gone unnoticed. In fact Jihoon’s very thankful, just that his thankfulness is indescribable in words.

To Seungkwan, any degree of silence must be torturing for him to be speaking again even before the two-minute mark hits.

“What are you gonna do about him? …I mean, Soonyoung hyung.”

 _More like what is he gonna do about me._ “Like I have a choice,” he doesn’t make it a question because it’s not.

“Well, you _can_ confess,” Seungkwan replies anyway.

And Jihoon does want to believe it’s the simplest thing in the world like the way it sounds, until he’s reminded. “Don’t you think you aren’t in the place to tell me that?”

“You can either do that”—the younger coughs, pulls out yet another makeup wipe, and moves onto the eyes, realizing just now the makeup might’ve been too heavy unnecessarily—“or jump him. He looks pretty damn hooked tonight.”

The persuasion may have worked too well, for the older doesn’t offer anything back for a long time.

“What- don’t tell me you’re really considering it!”

Jihoon would be sending dagger at this point if only he won’t get alcohol in his eyes, makes up to it with a growl. “Just do your job.”

“I _really_ don’t understand you, Jihoon hyung,” Seungkwan shakes his head disapprovingly, keeps going even if his entire being is being ignored at this rate. “You were being so pathetic, practically whining over why Soonyoung hyung wouldn’t reply to your texts two days ago, were telling him to bug off just now, _then_ proceeded to ridiculously get a kiss from this ridiculous woman with her ridiculous hat.”

At the mention of the deep-red mark on his already colored cheek (it’s not makeup), the previous scene unhelpfully starts replaying in his mind.

The younger male must’ve thought of something while he was catching his breath that causes his smirk. “ _Or_ it’s your plan of getting him jealous? Should I leave it then?”

“Get it off. _All_ _of_ _it_ ,” Jihoon spats without a thought required.

Junhui’d better deal with this mark of his well so that they’ll never meet again. That godawful woman grossly crept him the fuck out.

That being said, the makeup artist confusing their snitching job for something else doesn’t exactly _not_ work in Jihoon’s favor, so he lets him be.

Seungkwan moves to unattach the hair pins, sneaking a ‘How do you feel about him?’

The younger’s stick-to-it-iveness is admirable, Jihoon thinks whimsically. But on a serious note, of course he already feels bad for using the guy; adding the big possibility that Soonyoung is very likely not even gonna be angry with him when and _if_ he finds out, it makes Jihoon feel worse.

_Kwon Soonyoung is too good a person and I…_

“Hyung,” Seungkwan calls too gently Jihoon can’t just ignore. “I think it’s best you confess to him. Don’t think about the result or his reaction but just throw it out there. I mean, you never know, it might become a possibility—though if you asked me, sincerity alone should be enough to make him fall. If he hasn’t already, that is.”

“What do you even know,” Jihoon mumbles for good measure. He still has an image to uphold after all, and conceding with the younger ones too easily isn’t gonna be in its favor.

Instead of a verbal answer, the makeup artist scoops the fake hair up in one clean move while doing this shrug like ‘I know my stuff’, which Jihoon won’t deny most of the times he does.

Sending his legitimate hair back to its recognizable mien, Jihoon sighs again partly because so much weight is finally off his skull. “Trust me he’s not. The guy’s basically friends of the world.”

“I know your case’s pretty much beyond mending state, but _try_ seeing past your stubbornness for once, eh?”

That is his last straw and for the next five minutes or so Jihoon will find himself in the pursuit of whooping the other’s ass, robes on and all since he can’t care less about tripping then.

Alas, when the chase is over, reality comes back to slap the man in his futile brain that he still has no fucking idea what he’s gonna fucking do.

But whatever he decides, it has to be fast. No one needs to remind him time is running out.

_Junhui silently watches as Seungkwan goes aisle by aisle crossing off whatever thing on the list. It’s not a manager’s job per se, but theirs sometimes personally keeps everything in check. He’s a good one._

_“Why are you ghosting me again? Should I assign you some errands?” Seungkwan spells it out when he’s halfway done, unable to stand it any longer._

_“There’s definitely something and I mean the weird aura regarding our newest couple of two days, Jihoon and Landlord,” Junhui drawls opening up easily. “And my smarter self says the only person who can enlighten me on any matter as always is you.”_

_Seungkwan remains impassive, the only addition to his features is the purse of his lips. Though he can’t hide his curiosity from anyone._

_“How about we do another trade?” Junhui suggests and it works magically, rooting the younger to the spot._

_“Now we’re talking. You sure what you got is epic?” Seungkwan turns to face him, the list tossed aside._

_An eager nod._

_“Deal-”_

_“Feel free to go first,” Junhui offers the polite hand._

_Seungkwan, albeit annoyed at being beaten to it, clears his throat. “To put it sweet and simple, it’s a pretense for his mom—you know whose mom.”_

_“That’s actually not far from what I had in mind,” acknowledges the older._

_“Your turn,” Seungkwan prompts rapidly._

_“Well,” Junhui leans on a rack on his left while characteristically looking at his nails, legs crossing at the ankles. “Does the name ‘The New Girl’ ring a bell?”_

_“Holdupholdupholdup-” Seungkwan looks like he’s racking his brain for it. “Yes… That’s it… Is it the famous one-time underage performer?!” A nod he earns is a go, so he adds, “She wasn’t from my time so I only knew of it years later though.”_

_“Here comes the nucleus,” Junhui claps once cryptically. “If I were to tell you it’s someone I know, would you believe it?”_

_The question is rather rhetorical that Seungkwan frowns. “Considering your time in this industry, that wouldn’t be far-fetched,” he says nonetheless._

_Junhui shifts to his other leg. “And if I were to tell you it’s someone we mutually know, would you believe it?”_

_“You’d be shitting me then,” tsks Seungkwan incredulous._

_“Oh I shit you not,” Junhui just laughs. “Guess.”_

_So he does. “Is it that new girl—ah shit, I just called her that didn’t I? How coincidental—what’s her name again…Hyejung? Hyejung! Was our Hyejungie-”_

_“You sincerely think any girl’d have survived it was she truly a girl?” it’s the older’s turn to tsk, his index dancing around in mild disappointment._

_“…That’s it! Where’s my refund?!” Seungkwan admits defeat—nevertheless in a petulant manner._

_“Just take another guess. I even divided your choices by half now, didn’t I?”_

_Truth be told he’s had his doubts, but always brushed them off lest it made their relationship awkward._

_How’d they even get here though? Weren’t they talking about...?_

_Seungkwan sighs finding himself unable to finish the thought, so he opts for telepathy and the raise of eyebrows. “Is it…?”_

_Junhui’s smirk is overbearing. “Now that’s our manager.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy comeback, lovely Carats! Their Comeback Show was awesome huhu. Still can't believe ALL members did four (4) stages each instead of regular two and maybe a unit song.  
> Stream the MV and share the link, collect points and vote on as many platforms you can. Together we can do this. Fighting!


	7. Same difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not exactly what Soonyoung’d have wanted to hear—Jihoon isn’t sure what that is either. He just can’t bring himself to do it—create more lies. There’ve been enough of those as of late.

Why is Jihoon not surprised to find the idiot still linger around as soon as he’s stepped out of the building?

Nevertheless, he gingerly walks up to where the other looks to be taking a power nap, his head against the wall, because does he have any other option? For someone who’s stuck out while shivering in the cold this long, bugging Jihoon all the way home doesn’t sound out of their reach. No matter how expertly he avoids him. Not that the home isn’t unhelpfully the same address.

“Why are you still here?” to make his presence known, the heel of his shoe’s scraped with the concrete—an alternative to a kick to the head. “If you have that much time on your hand,” _because I_ _don’t_ , “sleep, in your bed.”

“Tell that to yourself,” Soonyoung quips right back even before fluttering his eyes open, like he was anticipating the action. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips and Jihoon scowls at it. “I said we needed to talk, did you forget?”

Some prefer to get hurt sooner so the pain will subside later. Lee Jihoon happens to belong to said group, hands on his hips. “Go ahead then, I’m listening-”

“Can I hold you?”

That’s…not what he’s expected. Light years from it, to be honest.

“Okay?” his damned mouth short circuits his disarrayed mind. Really though, who can resist that pout?

How Soonyoung is up on his feet in lightning speed clashes with the way his arms enclose themselves around Jihoon. Goosebumps begin forming on the smaller’s usually insensitive skin even with layers of clothes in between them, confirming how freezing them arms are; yet Jihoon finds himself welcoming all of that.

“Is this to feel my non-existent boobs?” Jihoon asks lightly though there’s genuine curiosity underneath the joke.

“You’re real,” Soonyoung says instead, breathing into his shoulder and Jihoon feels warm. So much warmth.

But what was that about?

Oh.

“ _So_ _real_ ,” repeats the taller. At this point there’s an attempt to wiggle out of the hold but Soonyoung only holds on tighter. “And, I like it better that you’re a guy.”

The wiggle stops. “…Even though it’d be so much easier if I wasn’t?” What’s he even saying?

The clutch goes on for a couple seconds more before Jihoon’s finally let go. Even then there’s been no answer that Jihoon figures he doesn’t want to know either, even then they’re still at arm’s length—too close than what Lee Jihoon would deem comfortable. A normal Lee Jihoon anyway.

“That’s all?” Jihoon’s stuffing his hands in his hoodie’s pouch when the taller shakes his head.

“I came up with a lot but seeing you right in front of me…my mind just blanks out,” Soonyoung confesses while multitasking with rubbing his nape and calculating the space between their shoes.

“Did they hurt you bad?” eyes having fallen to the deficiently dressed hand, Jihoon suddenly feels an obligatory to ask, not sure why he didn’t before.

“And earlier you didn’t even bat an eyelid, ouch,” Soonyoung says as much, feigning hurt despite the playful glint in his eyes. “It’s only right they beat me since I was in the wrong, so I guess there’s that,” comes the nose scrunch.

The irrelevant answer only gets Jihoon’s frown to deepen. “Come—”

“Jihoon oppa!”

The interruption makes both heads turn. Jihoon briskly acknowledges the approaching person with a nod. “Oh, Nari-yah.”

“Show was awesome. I bet you got us more regulars!” She gives a brief hug to Jihoon who singlehandedly pats her back, then bows to Soonyoung who dazedly mirrors the act. “Oh hello there! And you’re…?”

“A friend.”

“Kwon Soonyoung.”

Their simultaneous answers overlap, earning a puzzled look from the girl. She perks up with endearingly widened eyes and raised brows. “Come again?”

“Babe, Jae-eunie won’t be calm for long, let’s go!” shouts a young guy who appears out of nowhere (it’s actually a car behind him) rocking a baby in his arms. Soonyoung figures Jae-eun must be the child’s name.

“Okay!” Nari bellows before turning back to them. “I should get going then. Enjoy your night date, bye!”

Jihoon nods again, having on a tight-lipped smile despite an unmistakable blush on his cheeks, has to signal with his hand that means ‘just go already’ when she keeps looking back a few times.

They unintentionally watch the young couple interact with each other—pecks, hugs, small talk, all that jazz—Nari takes the baby from the guy, they share another kiss before the happy family get in the car.

Soonyoung retrieves his voice again only after the vehicle begins driving away. “Her name’s Nari?”

When you think the world is small, it will prove you wrong by getting even smaller.

Nari, girlfriend of the boy whose funeral Jihoon went to, turned up in his life once again a few days back, this time with a husband and a kid, which could mean she’s moved on and that’s a relief. After some catching up, Jihoon found she got a degree in culinary arts. The girl now works here as a sous chef.

“She’s a few years younger. Bright kid, and a good mom,” Jihoon clarifies with an unconscious proud smile, eyes on the retreating vehicle. “Boy comes with their daughter to pick her up almost every day, so you could say he’s an even better dad.”

“Isn’t she so cute, though?”

There’s a scoff, and it takes Soonyoung three beats too long to realize his words might’ve been too vague; by that time the smaller is already steps away from their initial standing spot.

“I-I mean the baby!” Soonyoung effectively blocks the way with his arms spread wide as soon as he catches up. _Woah, how could a guy this short walk that fast?_ “ _Really_ , Jihoon. Why’d I fancy someone who’s already got a family of her own? I mean why’d I when…” that gets trailed off with a chuckle.

And Jihoon’s confused to say the least, because this isn’t only him lying about his job. This is his job as a club performer exposed so how’s Kwon Soonyoung unfazed? Isn’t he supposed to feel ashamed and…crept out a bit, if not a lot? Why does it feel like what happened back there is nothing to him? Is he really okay with these things? Or is he giving Jihoon a chance to explain himself, or waiting for him to? If that’s the case; what if Jihoon doesn’t want to, doesn’t know where to start, or will never be able to?

“Who cares how I took that as?”

“I do, so please don’t take it the wrong way.”

That wasn’t meant to be heard, yet the answer came without a beat missed.

“Speaking of, don’t you agree that children are so adorable? That their squishy faces make you wanna keep every one of them to yourself?” Soonyoung adds overexcitedly.

“Whatever you say. You can’t though,” he says matter-of-factly as to cut short the conversation, all the while trying to stay levelheaded _as a normal Lee Jihoon would_.

But before he can get to zigzagging in order to resume his walk home, a hand on his wrist is pulling him the opposite way. Needless to say he gives tit for tat, tugging back as strongly.

“Please don’t make me believe this is the only way to get you to look at me,” Soonyoung turns around with another chuckle and Jihoon doesn’t think he’ll get sick of the sound any time soon. Still, he professionally levels his glare which seems to have done nothing in his favor so far. “You walk here and back, right? My car’s over there.”

How he didn’t notice the _very disturbing yellow_ BWM parked next to where the family car used to be is quite questionable, though Jihoon blames it on him being overwhelmed since a lot have been happening tonight, which isn’t anywhere near finished considering the ride obviously isn’t open for refus-

“What about your hand?” Jihoon finds himself asking when the other’s index is a second from the engine button. He just realizes it’s his first time in this car too.

“It’s fine.” A beam that greets him is extra bright. “I can drive singlehanded no prob.”

“Did you drink?”

That gets Soonyoung’s smile to falter by a degree, him glancing sideway very briefly before his eyes are back at the dashboard. “…Maybe a couple shots?”

It’s not like the idea of police pulling them aside terrifies him much as this is fucking three a.m. In spite of that, his warning tone is summoned. “ _Soonyoung_.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Soonyoung quips too easily and Jihoon thinks the look in his eyes translates to ‘Don’t you trust me?’

Jihoon wants to demand how he’s gonna prove that, and at the same time wishes he could say the same thing back. “I…”

The start of the engine muffles everything and Jihoon supposes it’ll be better that he keeps his mouth shut, doesn’t miss a small grunt coming from the other as he buckles himself.

If it takes around twenty minutes by foot, naturally it takes less than that by car. Still, this is far too fast, might’ve been just two minutes before the car comes to a not-so-gentle stop and Jihoon’s startled out of the nap he didn’t intend to take, looks over just in time the door of the driver side clicks closed, then his eyes are forced to squint due to the harsh fluorescence lights.

Soonyoung pulled over to go to the…convenience store? Did he have a craving for ramyun all of a sudden? (His skin crawls at its double meaning.)

The engine that’s left on creates quite a pleasant atmosphere, so Jihoon returns to crossing his arms and leaning his head against the window and letting the soft rumbling lull him.

 _Or is it hangover?_ something pipes up.

_Nah, it couldn’t be. He said it was just a couple shots._

_And what if he’s mistaken? It’s Kwon Soonyoung, you know?_

According to a peek at the car’s digital clock, it’s been four minutes since.

Jihoon looks left again. Still no sign of any person. Well, it’s in fact three in the morning.

_Chill out, maybe he’s just getting pain reliever, or antiseptic._

_But the house’s minutes away? Why’d he bother?_

_Why do_ you _bother?_

Due to what Jihoon doesn’t know, his warm butt’s dragged out of the car.

Two aisle walkabouts later, however, still no Kwon Soonyoung in sight—technically there’s no one in sight save for a teenage employee who looks asleep on her feet.

Jihoon feels too apologetic towards said miserable employee to wake her up—can pretty much relate to her—so he just lets her be and leaves the store hoping the second chiming sound he causes on his way out doesn’t startle her either.

Even at arguable success rate his phone’s fished out, the owner about to cross the road but stopped by a faint ringing not too far away—actually it seems to be just from the back of the store.

The man feels like sighing in relief because, _thank God no vomiting or kidnapping has occurred._

_And a crouching Soonyoung sure is an adorable sight._

Recovered from his awe, Jihoon puts his phone away. Looking beyond the man, he sees a handful of clearly neglected, murky felines of all age. Some might’ve just got themselves out of boxes and garbage pile.

“Hey Blackie, don’t push Brownie, there’s enough for all of you,” Soonyoung pats some of them that let him—the younger ones—and pours more milk into the shabby aluminum bowls. “Sorry I was late today.”

Silently Jihoon copies the other’s sitting manner making sure to leave an ample gap in the middle, continues to just observe.

“The dance was insane, yet I ruined it,” Soonyoung says suddenly, tone dismal.

 _I should be the one being sorry, for all the things I can’t tell you._ “You almost. Which is okay, what’s done is done,” Jihoon tells him hoping he’d drop it.

Soonyoung however doesn’t seem over with the subject, expression even changing to something darker as he goes on grumbling out. “I mean, those guys were so mean to you…at the stage.”

 _That’s why whatever earlier was happened? Well, that’d be a stupid thing to do, not to mention useless._ Jihoon knows it’s too much to ask considering the situation they’re in, yet he so badly wants to believe the guy didn’t do it just because he’s the goody-two-shoes Kwon Soonyoung but because of other reason. _The_ other reason.

“It’s not something even I can control so don’t concern yourself over it,” he opts for dismissing and resisting the urge caused by the feeling of a burning look in his peripheral vision.

It’s not exactly what Soonyoung’d have wanted to hear—Jihoon isn’t sure what that is either. He just can’t bring himself to do it—create more lies. There’ve been enough of those as of late.

“H-how long have you been with it?” Soonyoung rubs his freezing hands together before putting them inside his coat. “Do, um, do they treat you alright?”

 _If you mean working in a bar, since birth?_ “It’s my seventh year there so naturally I consider them more or less my friends,” he clears his throat. His chance of coming, not clean, but _cleaner_ at what he does is here and Jihoon hopes he doesn’t fuck up. “Some even went to the wedding…and the funeral.”

“They did?” Soonyoung sounds genuinely surprised. Or genuine and surprised.

“You were asleep then,” Jihoon reasons, can imagine that particular ‘ah’ face taking place again.

“I wish I could take them home, really.”

His brain takes two extra seconds to wrap itself around the one-eighty topic change. Obviously Jihoon’d only expect the other to ask more regarding…considering what he’s seen, known…oh well. “Then why haven’t you?” he feigns nonchalance, like his thoughts aren’t jumbled and just all over the place.

“Is that a real question or-” Soonyoung begins chuckling only to completely stop the moment Jihoon turns to him.

“I know myself,” the man starts again, more somberly. “For someone who’s ever forgetful, can’t so much as get his stuff together”—Soonyoung shakes his head then, with a bittersweet expression—“ _they_ don’t deserve an owner like that.”

“You’ll make a great dad, to pets and kids alike,” Jihoon feels like he should be disagreeing, like current Soonyoung needs that, but reassuring is the farthest he can go right now. It’s not like he knows all about him, and vice versa.

“Thanks for saying that. It truly means a lot,” the taller glances slightly down, blushing profusely it’s adorable, before shaking his head again. “But nah, they’ll be starved to death before I know it, kids or animals. Would you look at my fish-”

“Well, they’re not dead _yet_.”

“That’s because you help feed them! Never saw it but I _just_ know you do,” the man faces him again to make his point and this time Jihoon doesn’t avoid those eyes. Those radiant eyes.

Unknown to the other, he’s got a lot to say too but seeing him up close like this… Now he won’t say those words of his were much bullshit.

It’s Soonyoung who breaks away from the eye contact first. “Bye, kitties. I’ll see you guys again though I don’t know when.”

There’s a pause while the man brushes dirt off his coat, then-

“Let’s go home, Jihoonie?”

Giving the cats—there’re eight of them—one last look, Jihoon accepts the hand held out to him like a reflex. (Or maybe _as_ a reflex since his mixed feelings are too much for him to even formulate a thought right now.)

“I wish I have done this more often—driving you home I mean.”

They’re parked in front of the place Jihoon unfortunately learnt to call home for the last month.

Well, it hasn’t hit a month mark yet, has it? (Why the date of their wedding is a constant remind in his head, Jihoon isn’t sure.)

Despite being the one who initiated the conversation—albeit how short-lived—Soonyoung doesn’t wait for a response, getting out of the car at once. Only to be fumbling for the house keys on the porch.

Amused and without hurried, Jihoon comes up behind him, maneuvers the man aside with the back of his hand, then proceeds to unlock the door with his own set of keys. Soonyoung must’ve found his own action embarrassing or something because he just watches, speechless.

“Shut the door, will you? It’s cold.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Soonyoung realizes belatedly he’s been standing silly with mouth agape, going straight for the stairs after having done so when he doesn’t find anyone in sight.

“Come here.”

The call from the kitchen’s too loud Soonyoung has no choice but to do so, mop of black hair gingerly emerging itself.

“Sit,” Jihoon invites, himself already seated.

Soonyoung takes the opposite chair, eyeing the smaller man warily still, even more so when he’s told to take off his shirt, hands uncharismatically flying up to cover nothing. “What the- aren’t you twisted?!”

There’s a blatant eye roll. “And earlier who was feeling my non-”

“You were mistaken! I was doing none of that!” Comprehension wafts through him as his eyes flit to see the familiar box on the kitchen table, yet he can’t stop looking like a damsel-slash-dude in distress.

“Take it off, lemme see,” Jihoon repeats, uncompromising, trying to maintain the straight face which is getting more difficult by the minute.

“I-I will do it. Just give me-”

The way the first-aid thing is snatched out of his grasp does, in one way or another, remind Soonyoung of _that_ _night_ , just like Jihoon wanted him to be.

After some time Jihoon scratches his head, can’t help an irritated look he’s been trying to keep in anymore. “I’m responsible since you got hurt trying to-”

“I got hurt because of myself,” he stands firm on his ground.

“Same difference.”

Soonyoung’s definitely towering over a much smaller guy now but why does he feel like yielding? What’s worse is that he ultimately does.

With his coat, sweatshirt, and t-shirt off, he’s basically sitting half-naked in the middle of nowhere (his own kitchen) and is surprised to find the heater on full blast, would dwell on the sentiment more were he not already made self-conscious upon discovering the black-and-blue marks scattered messily throughout his torso and presumably his back.

_But that’s a guy, Kwon Soonyoung! Lee Jihoon is most definitely irrefutably-_

“H-how’s your shoulder?” Soonyoung clears his mucus-free throat.

“Healed,” comes a terse answer.

He didn’t register Jihoon getting up from the chair, only does after the man’s come back with packs of ice, one of which is sent flying in front of his face. Soonyoung still catches it albeit with a clueless mind. Until another epiphany dawns on him at its sloth pace.

 _…Ah wasn’t I such a fool._ Of course _fresh bruises need ice, not anything from that box- Lee Jihoon, how smart but also very cunning-_

The pricking cold sensation and gentle presses on his back stir up completely _irrelevant_ things in his brain. It might be full of misplaced thoughts but not _these_ _kinds_. Never these kinds.

Soonyoung finds himself gulping and leaning slightly away, placing the pack given to him on his chest in hope it’ll numb his heart too.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have happened had I…” he starts but blanks out while trying to find more appropriate words. Appropriate for him anyway. “I mean, I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk home alone. Can’t you, I don’t know, maybe-”

“I’ll be fine, Soonyoung,” Jihoon cuts him with a ghost of a sigh. “Besides, that wasn’t even the reason.”

“What reason?”

“Why I got hurt.”

“Then what was?”

“People.”

Soonyoung pouts at the ambiguous answer but supposes that’s as far as he’ll get—at the moment, or ever, who knows.

One of the ice packs has moved up to his shoulder blade while the other one’s only gone lower towards the side and if Soonyoung didn’t know better, he’d say this is the man’s attempt at hugging.

And if he didn’t know better, he’d say Jihoon’s giving him mixed signals.

Though, is it weird to feel hot and cold all over at the same time? Because that’s kinda how his body is right now; like there’s ice on his mother-naked skin, then there’s the heater, there’re his sweats, and there’s-

“This is gonna leave marks,” the space between each word and syllable sounds stretched and wrong, something like hesitation.

Soonyoung hears breaths—heavy ones—some shuffling, then Jihoon’s in front of him sitting down again. Soonyoung’s back now carries no ice, just something fluffy and warm—a towel?

“Don’t you ever want pets—or kids?” Soonyoung says when Jihoon doesn’t. Talking about irrelevant things. “You sounded like you didn’t, earlier.”

“Pets, maybe,” Jihoon says amidst handpicking, realizing it’s the first time he’s ever given it a thought since no one’s ever asked him something so personal. Probably saw there was no point. “Kids?”—a meaningless chuckle—“It’s the other way around rather. They don’t like me.”

“Oh, _come_ _on_. I almost thought you were one of them.”

“What?” his delicate hand hangs midair.

Soonyoung thinks the smaller looks dumbfounded while he himself must look like a kid caught red-handed doing something bad right now. “N-no offense about your height but, you really do look young, Jihoon.”

“And that’s a compliment?” he sets the gauze roll down as soundlessly as possible.

“Sure is! Woah- did you take my previous ones about your performance and all as something non-compliment too?!” suddenly but reasonably so, Soonyoung is livid. Enraged.

 _No one’s that stupid. Just this one is kinda…_ Jihoon shakes his head. “Just give me your hand.”

Soonyoung refuses to, both in action and in words. “No, you’re not buying it so I’ve gotta say it again,” cues that pair of mad keen eyes. “Lee Jihoon, the show I _almost_ ruined was one of a kind. The way you danced captured everybody’s heart. Fineness—finesse?—elegance, and confidence were in your every move. I saw it as charismatic, gripping, and beautiful. I mean, if you’d let me.”

Somehow it always ends up this way—the one who doesn’t need being cheered up gets it from the one who needs it more, if not most. Maybe it’s just what Kwon Soonyoung does best: brightening people’s days but doesn’t know how to do that to his own. It goes without saying Jihoon’s come across declarations similar to this a countless of times before, but hearing it from the guy in front of him feels oddly _different_.

Jihoon ends up snatching it—the hand—but Soonyoung doesn’t resist then, probably terrified at the idea of hurting himself more than he already has.

With several aligned cuts revealed, gone is the make-shift bandage Jihoon’s allegedly torn of the haori (Minghao was _furious_ ), it gives strange hollow feeling knowing this was caused by _him_. Or not.

Because to be fair, Kwon Soonyoung did bring this upon himself. It’s true the katana’s real but not having been in use in forever should’ve blunted it somewhat. Imagine if it were real _and_ sharpened.

So to say, the cuts was caused exclusively by friction—just how much force did he use?

At least the cleaning and rewrapping processes go by in peace (much to Jihoon’s preference). It’s only after Soonyoung’s done admiring the newer version of dressing on his hand, with proper bandage this time, does he go:

“This is so neat! Are you secretly a doctor? Or a nurse? Where’d you learn how to excel all this first-aid stuff?”

Jihoon snorts at the unwarranted enthusiasm. “Just, somewhere.”

“Come to think of it,” apparently Soonyoung’s one who never gives up on conversations. “You’re one very mysterious man, Lee Jihoon.”

“Didn’t we agree not to intrude into each other’s personal life?” he tries bringing that up. It backfires.

“Well, you did meddle into my mom’s funeral.”

“That’s—”

“And I’m glad you did so,” Soonyoung’s quick to cut him. “Don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.”

“Think nothing of it,” Jihoon brushes it off but the other vehemently shakes his head, taking his hand in his unscathed one.

“Thank you, for staying with me, even if I know you didn’t want to.”

He decides it’d be fun to try him. “What makes you so sure of that?”

A blink. “Didn’t Chan call you and you just felt bad?”

“If that’s what you wanna believe, sure,” Jihoon pointedly claims back his hand, tone nonchalant.

“There, there, there you go again, being all riddles,” Soonyoung gives him the accusing finger but it’s all fun and games.

Fun and games, huh? Are they really friends now?

“Before I forget, you’d got great ears for music. Truly another good choice on top of the accessories, the outfit, the props, I don’t know what else there was…”

Jihoon knows he shouldn’t be telling him this but, “I made that.”

“What’d you mean you… _made_ _that_? The bgm?!”

Another snort well deserved. “Lyrics, too, if they come to mind,” he adds in a mutter. _Even got paid to study that in a freaking university only to be wasting talents and potential away_.

“ _Oh_ _please_ , I can do none of that but my liver tells me it’s something super cool! Why you talking like it’s not?” Soonyoung’s frowning so cutely and Jihoon would like to believe the heat on his face and the butterfly in his stomach come _purely_ from being flattered—Lee Jihoon’s allergic to flattery, that’s a fact—nothing more nothing less.

“It’s not much, really.”

Soonyoung softens at the tenuous response. “Looks like someone needs a little more credit.”

Honestly Jihoon shouldn’t have let that catch him by surprise, because the next moment there’re hands on each side of his frame caging him in. It flares where their skin touches.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, hmm?” the taller goes on to say.

And honestly Jihoon wants to tell him that exact same thing and perhaps wipe that pout off that god-forbidden face.

But the momentum is gone faster than it’s come, Soonyoung giving Jihoon back his personal space before abruptly standing up while fixing the towel so that it covers more of his skin.

“Jihoon, actually I…”

Jihoon shots his head up and holds his gaze steadily, expectantly, on the man who _won’t_ look at him now, who’s also aware of his stare—he must be—but keeps playing with the towel’s loose threads—or, keeps playing with its threads _until_ they become loose.

It’d be a really bad joke if he’s actually waiting for permission to speak because when’d he even do? Nevertheless Jihoon prepares an ‘I’m listening?’, glad he doesn’t need it because Soonyoung suddenly makes it out of his speech glitch. Or maybe not so much because-

“Actually I-I think you’re a very talented fellow and it’s inspirational and I genuinely do hope you’ll find someone who deserves you eventually—got what I’m saying?”

“Totally, aha,” Jihoon responds according to how he feels but it seems Soonyoung’s too distracted to recognize it as a deadpan.

“Also, thank you again for treating me, you know, that was very nice of you and lastly, um, what happens in the bar stay in the bar so don’t worry okay? Zipped?”

Kwon Soonyoung’s a terrible liar, confirmed.

Yet Jihoon doesn’t press and just lets the man run off to his room—not when he can feel that, just like last time, neither of them is prepared for it. There aren’t many options what ‘it’ could’ve originally been about anyway.

(Quite possibly, he’s already guessed the right one. Not that he’s ever been wrong.)


	8. Let’s _______

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t understand,” Jihoon makes to walk away but Soonyoung rounds the table to catch his eyes again, closing the gap between them.  
> “Then help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those four wins, we've all earned it, Carats. The boys sounded so happy, too. Although that might be my last comeback with them until next May I'll continue to root for them quietly (in my foreseeably little spare time). I'll trust you guys to keep breaking records of our own, just like Sebongs have been doing to theirs.

Waking up to catch the captain-to-be before he leaves for work is a first, although it’s not like Jihoon had an early wake this morning (it’s already ten). If anything, it’s more like the other’s been hanging around waiting for him to emerge from his room, _but_ not to have brunch with him obviously.

“Did you have a good night sleep?” as always Soonyoung greets him first, toast hanging off mid bite. “Sorry I didn’t wish you goodnight last night-”

Thank goodness his raised hand gets the message across somewhat. He doesn’t know about Soonyoung, but Jihoon for one doesn’t feel like having a headache when the day (his day) has barely started. “I slept okay, thanks,” it’s a belated reply, one out of politeness.

It’s getting more and more awkward as there’s just grating noise of burned bread getting chewed. Jihoon considers going past the man to get something to sooth his thirst or just leave so it’s no longer awkward.

“So I’ve been curious, since last night,” Soonyoung finally finishes the damn thing and is wiping at his mouth with his hand getting the fallen pieces all over the floor. Jihoon so want to roll his eyes but senses now is not the best time. “Why do you have to stick to it? Working…there, I mean.”

It’s not like he expected anything different from the usual but somehow it still hurts knowing it. Hearing it. How the other’s phrased his words.

 _It’s only fair he’s embarrassed by the fact,_ that’s meant for him to keep his cool but he isn’t wrong to suspect it may be having an adverse effect. _The fact that he’s married, lived under the same roof with an escort, regardless of the actuality._

 _People tend to not get their facts straight anyway since just the looks of it is enough for them to call something truth._ “You don’t understand,” Jihoon makes to walk away but Soonyoung rounds the table to catch his eyes again, closing the gap between them.

“Then help me.” His eyes are like fire balls that don’t burn; rather, it’s warmth they give off. Familiar soothing warmth. And Jihoon can’t help but get lost in them, even after all this time.

 _With or without my mother’s hatred for it, it’s where I first learnt to call home. Albeit how low and rotten, there’s a sense of comfort. Besides, for a person with no qualification whatsoever like me…_ Despite endless explanation spiking up his throat, what he offers is, “The pay is relatively agreeable.”

“Yeah, but can’t you leave?”

_‘It’s okay to leave’,_

_‘This is for myself’,_

_‘Do it, let’s start with a clean slate.’_

Jihoon’s long quit keeping track of the what-ifs that occur to him, for what’s even the purpose of ever wondering those if it’s always gonna end up with him coming back uncertain, insecure, self-doubting, afraid? It has and will always do.

“So, are you telling me to _just_ quit it?” Soonyoung’s unquestionably startled by his scoff, shoulders deflating, but Jihoon isn’t about done with his raised voice. “How about you get out there and try get by with a single part time job, Kwon Soonyoung ssi?”

The taller visibly falters now. “I…didn’t mean it like that.”

“What’d you mean then?”

“It’s…”

_Let me take you as my…responsibility?_

Maybe that’s what Jihoon could read from Soonyoung’s lips. His eyes.

Maybe that’s what Jihoon wants to hear. Has wanted.

But whichever case it is, is irrelevant if and when nothing’s ever uttered back no matter how long Jihoon waits. And it’d be a lie to say that didn’t tick him off—that specifically being: Soonyoung not finishing what he’s started. Because Lee Jihoon could very well become one of them.

“But again,” he prompts the taller male to take a step back by taking a step further front, arms coming to cross over his chest. “I can’t blame you since you’re either too nice an idiot or too slow-witted a person.”

“…What were you saying just now?”

Someone happens to be doing a good darn job at remaining confused instead of becoming mad, up which only further riles him. Or perhaps his defensive stance just isn’t working well enough.

“Listen very carefully then, Kwon Soonyoung ssi,” whether it’s an exaggerated sigh or a tired one Jihoon can’t tell anymore. Could be both. “I don’t need your money _or_ _your_ _pity_. If you think that’s the reason I married you,” _you’re partly right_ , “you’re wrong.”

Leaving the guy confused and alone in the kitchen, a sense of déjà vu washes over him, with an unwelcome arrival of goosebumps on his skin. And maybe the tiniest part of Jihoon wishes that, for once, he doesn’t make it to the door.

Third time’s the charm, they say?

“Oh, to what do I owe-”

“The passcode’s changed.”

The younger of the two lets the door swing closed on its own as he slips into his pair of house slippers, making a bee line for the round bay window in the living room afterward. It’s a place he always hogs, for song writing, power napping, or otherwise.

As soon as Jihoon’s made himself comfortable with all the pillows, a mug of hot chocolate with vanilla and almond spice is waiting for him, steam coming off in an appetizing manner. They both know it’s his favorite and the younger keeps the grin to himself.

“Hasn’t it been a month already?” Seungcheol, ever familiarized with his dongsaeng’s sudden attitudes, muses rhetorically as he settles on the couch, feet swinging to rest upon the coffee table and sipping his own mug of hot chocolate—one with whipped cream and cocoa powder. “Here for your keyboard? If not, what’s up?”

At the lack of immediate response, the laptop’s out, the nowhere near finished report pulled up. Slowly, the younger one turns to him but doesn’t speak for another minute, with debates still going on in his head.

“Are you _seriously_ upset because of the changed passcode?” Seungcheol merely cocks a brow amid his furious typing. “We do that every once in a while, don’t you remember?”

Jihoon makes an effort to sit up straighter before he begins. “Kwon Soonyoung’s clean. And that’s a fact.”

“A fact you said over the text!” the older yells but it comes off as childish, as always. He gets back to whipping up sentences but subtly sulks further. “Tell me something exciting.”

“Found out about the father.” Not too bad for some _positive_ reactions, like an approving nod. Jihoon continues, “Also a pilot. Was highly respected till the day he went to jail. Charged with bribery and extortion and such. Haven’t seen each other since, hence why they’re not close.”

When he looks up again, someone looks to be teary. _What now?_

“Told you to tell me something exciting, not sad!” Seungcheol wipes his imaginary tears. “Now enough about work. Tell me what you came to tell me.”

Jihoon gets rid of the remaining of his hesitation and chances, “He was at the bar last night. Founded out about my job.”

“Kwon Soonyoung?” Seungcheol returns, confused, but still not looking at him. “How? He doesn’t even know you exist unless you ain’t Lee Jihoon and he’d already caught on being tailed-”

“No, he didn’t.” _Not yet._

A spacebar sounds. “I heard a but.”

Jihoon is no expert in breaking the news but one can try. “I wasn’t tending the bar last night,” he replies calmly.

“Then what were you…oh my god no fucking way!” the confused look intensifies by ten before it _blows_. _Now_ Seungcheol spares him a look. “Y-yah, I’ll be forced to believe what I think is true unless you _say_ _something_.”

The panicky demand’s bluntly ignored, Jihoon observing a near-eruption volcano from behind his mug.

“Lee Jihoon!”

“It’s what you think,” said man sighs. At this point, what’s gonna happen is gonna happen.

Comprehension seeps onto the man’s features like magma seeping through earth, before it cracks. “I were there when you swore off the stars not to go down that path again, but what? Over the night everyone knows about the past you so wanted to forget?”

It’s like all of the older’s disappointment comes in the form of a scoff, but Jihoon figures he deserves at least that.

Still, there won’t be another time for this so he bulldozes through what he came to to say. “I didn’t have much choice. She was Junhui’s mark and-”

“She? …SHE?!” Seungcheol cuts him again and it’s getting a little annoying.

A pause. “Chill out, matters stayed at the stage-”

“I thought you were just at _her_ beck and call but you actually did a show for the whole place to see?! If that’s not absurd, I don’t know what is?!”

No matter how much time’s passed, any degrees of excessive use of voice is unacceptable it grants Jihoon immediate scowl and a finger in his ear. And since he’s got nothing worth retorting to that, he doesn’t.

In time it prompts the older to return his scowl. “So you’re saying Junhui knew about ‘The New Girl’? When and how- no, why were you even covering for his damn mark in the first place?”

 _Choi Seungcheol will put his eyeballs out of their sockets one of these days._ “It’s a long story.”

Seungcheol takes some time to consider him, but when he finally speaks it’s in a more relaxed tone, totally unmatching Jihoon’s expression.

“Aside from the fact that you went back on your sworn words for the most unreasonable of reasons, I don’t see why this should be a problem?” A shrug. “No need to sound so serious. It’s not like your sugar daddy came.”

The answer to that is either a white lie or pushing his luck. And pushing his luck, Jihoon does. “He did.”

“…Too?!”

“Either of them did.”

Cues the confused brows. “Is this the part where I guess?”

“ _Either_ of them did.”

The room’s back to quiet. Quiet to the point some neighbor’s TV noises are able to penetrate their wall of hearing. They need to soundproof this room too maybe.

“Yea, also what you think.” Jihoon goes ahead and acknowledges when the radio silence stretches on, amused to see the mouth that’s not his hanging open in suspense. “Kwon Soonyoung”—why the name sounds foreign to him now he doesn’t know—“is your sugar daddy.”

Seungcheol chokes on his hot chocolate which’s certainly gone lukewarm because Jihoon’s has. “I told you not to call him mine, it’s creepy!” he scolds.

Nothing deep about why the older’s only been sidetracking, why he’s being petty over the most trivial of things. Just his way of denying reality.

A little funny but not unexpected that Jihoon’s got be the one comforting and not the other way around. But if that eases his mind somewhat, Jihoon can play along. “And you don’t think it is for me?” a brow of his is cocked towards the end.

“My bad, my bad,” Seungcheol compromises with both hands in the air. “But _essentially_ you were saying, um, your mark is your fake husband and your fake husband is your mark?”

An impassive nod.

“In words, please.”

Jihoon complies only because something’s sounded different. “Yes, they’re the same person.”

At the unwavering confirmation, it’s like the smile put upfront gives up resisting the gravity, falling pitifully. “Why didn’t you just _tell_ _me_? Then I would’ve just…” there’re currently fingers treading roughly through the black locks. “Jihoon, oh Jihoon-ah, you _and_ _I_ could so get busted for this! Out of all people, _you_ know it’s not right to be related to your mark-”

“I know, that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry,” he apologizes while looking at him in the eye to let him know he’s sincere, that he really never meant for any of this to happen—or end up like this anyway.

But Seungcheol’s done with neither his second eruption nor being angry. “If you could last this long with hiding this from me, should’ve stuck to it till the end! Why breaking it now?! Need an accomplice? The guilt’s killing you inside?”

His brother looks like he needs to punch something but is holding back, and Jihoon may feel tiny bit guilty for having brought this up or even having lied to him in the first place.

Yet, his endless contemplating confirms that this gut feeling of his actually stems from somewhere. “I feel like he’ll ask to break it off soon,” he offers within a minute.

“Oh such great timing. Do it. There’s no reason not to anyway,” Seungcheol throws hands up and about, a trace of disdain in his voice. “And just in case you’re worried about stupid people and their stupid opinions, which knowing you such concern is ridiculous but just in case, you’ve my full support on becoming a divorcee at twenty-eight but wait how is this relevant to what I asked?”

“Because,” Jihoon, his cool secured, puts down his mug for its own safety, “I think I might like him.”

It starts with a suppressed snicker, then a chuckle, before escalating into a full cackle.

“Yah, if this is some hidden camera shit you’d better abort it now! Stop this shit before you give someone a premature heart attack!” the older’s bending so much his laptop clicks closed in his lap. “Seriously, your jokes are _the_ _worst_ because of that straight poker face of yours. Aish can’t believe it still gets me every damn time…”

If one could reincarnate with a supernatural power, Jihoon thinks not so whimsically, his top choice’d be spitting venom through his eyes. Yet he waits voluntarily, patiently, for the moment the other man realizes-

“Wait, for real?” a blink.

A blink back just as innocent. “Did I stutter?”

“No, you didn’t, you little shit but…wow, Lee Jihoon liking someone? Never in a hundred years thought I’d hear that in this life but also, what’d I tell ya? That you’d catch feelings, right?” Jihoon gives him a look, annoyed at his being right. “So because of that, he kicked you—no, _you_ _let_ _him_ kick you out since he’s divorcing you?”

 _Someone’s being oddly on point today_. “I came here on my own so not really?”

“But he’s still ending things, correct?” the older hasn’t given up.

“I said, I _feel_ _like_ -”

“Oh okay okay,” enters an accompanying ‘calm-down’ hand. “So you came here thinking the guy’s gonna call it off for sure without him not having said a word despite last night? Now, aren’t you just overreacting? It’s possible he can’t care less what you do.”

With neither energy nor plan to compete with the older’s near legendary rapping, Jihoon waits until he’s finished to input, “We kinda fought this morning. That’s why I left.”

“Fought? _Fought?_ Didn’t know fake couples fight. Is that a trend these days?” Seungcheol echoes, incredulous, and Jihoon too knows it sounds ridiculous but that’s what happened, more or less. “But, if my memory serves me well enough, doesn’t it have to be mutual to call things off early? With the one-year mark obviously outta the question, this funky contract will end only if both of you agree, no? Or does ‘work as an escort’ already cross the line?”

“His mom already passed away,” he says. That should grant the room another silence, yet Jihoon’s disappointed not for the first time today.

“…So what? Mom, no mom, doesn’t matter. A deal’s a deal,” quips the older too easily.

Though, when put like that the future does sound sweet, like he’s got nothing to worry at all—and Jihoon knows that’s just wishful thinking.

Seungcheol takes notes of the younger’s looking down, of his lips catching between his teeth, of his anxious demeanors in general, and decides it’s not against their favor to break the silence that’s arrived at an odd time, unanticipated but not entirely unwelcomed.

“I didn’t think I needed to know this earlier but now I think I do…” the older of the two scratches gawkily at his hairline with his ring finger in an effort to proceed as casual. “It’s not just this morning, is it?”

The younger’s nod comes in lieu of response is barely visible.

“Yes? Well, if you’re open to suggestions, start from”—the older sits up straighter, the report he’s yet to finish forgotten altogether—“he saw you on the clock and what? Yeah, there.”

“…Why do you need to know?” Jihoon wonders if it’s too late to think of a way not to go into details. He’d hate to resurrect that night.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it up, would ya? I know my dongsaeng is a man of purpose,” the older muses lightly, but Jihoon doesn’t find that very funny. “Or take it as, I’m asking as a family member and of course everything that concerns my dongsaeng concerns me. Either way, what happened?”

Eventually the younger gives in to confiding, but not looking up.

“All was going,” he has to shun his smarty-ass brain from meddling and altering the truth. “Until, some lunatic decided being an unscripted cameo is _the_ way to enjoy the night. Almost decapitated him with my katana but them bouncers beat me to it. Afterwards went out to save his ass and told him to get lost. He ungratefully didn’t.”

“Woah, Kwon Soonyoung’s sure one nuts dude,” the older contributes a remark. Jihoon won’t disagree. “Anything happened there?”

 _‘Wow’?_ “He said we needed to talk,” he opts.

“To thank you for saving his life?”

“To ask if he could…hug me?”

“Ahhh-”

“It’s not what you think,” Jihoon declares quickly, practically springing up upon _sensing_ the stupid grin aiming at him sprout and grow like it intends to reach the owner’s ears, his accelerating heartbeats making it hard to deadpan. “Was to make sure I wasn’t a girl…or something.”

“Kwon Soonyoung told you that _and_ you believed him?” the chuckle that follows is also abnormally fond, the man leaning back with both arms supporting his head. “You’re too unworldly about this it’s adorable, Ji.”

Lee Jihoon hates blushing, so damn much, and that’s a fact. What’s worse is that he isn’t as visually discreet about it as he wishes to be.

Brushing his nose with his knuckle in lieu of hiding them rosy cheeks, Jihoon mutters offhandedly, off-topic-ly, “Kwon Soonyoung can do really stupid things.”

“Like bending to like a guy after one strip show? I think yes- actually no, I doubt his preference was changed at all,” Seungcheol’s expression is a mix of teasing and earnest. Someone deserves an award for keeping up. “Speaking of, do you know? Whether or not he’s of the binary world?”

Although Soonyoung talks about a ton shit lot about all various kind of things, his sexuality is never one of them.

_Right, how audaciously delusional of me to have assumed that he’s not straight._

A reality check is in need if Jihoon thought he got a chance with Kwon or anyone for that matter because, what’s there to like about him? He’s no better than a penniless liar with the shadiest background anyone could think of. Soonyoung being nice to him is like Soonyoung being nice to anyone. It’s just a part of the man’s personality, being an epitome of goody-two-shoes and all. Even a dedicated monkey would be able to see there’s nothing underlying about that-

“But again, I don’t think that’s needed anymore. Initially thought he dared marry another man cuz of obvious reason. Guess my worry was for nada, huh?” Seungcheol conducts a monologue in the meantime the younger blatantly zones out on him. “How ironic that he… Anyway, we’re here to talk about you so, what’s your deal?”

Acting clueless won’t get him far, and while he should know that much Jihoon does just because. “My what?”

“Your deal with him. What’d you like about my fake brother-in-law, marshmallow?”

 _Both_ spontaneous nicknames get a free pass due to its owner’s serious expression—very unlike Choi Seungcheol, no shit—as though there’s more to this than him wanting to hear Jihoon say something cheesy for a change.

“It’s true the guy’s got pretty decent hugs…but this is not about my feeling for him.”

Seungcheol gives him knitted brows for that but thankfully nothing verbal, or else Jihoon might lose focus.

But he does lose his focus anyway following a look out the window.

There in the clear sky of September the man spots a plane having just taken off. The sight of it gets him to wonder if someone’s flying something similar. If that certain someone’s assisting the captain and escorting the passengers with utmost attention. _Whether or not_ this morning’s exchange is gonna bring about what he’s been dreading.

“More like, I don’t think I can just…let him go,” Jihoon resumes his pending speech, eyes still where the flying machine’s disappeared behind a bunch of white clouds, thoughts seemingly lost in those as well. “Not when he constantly does stupid reckless things. Not when he’s being too nice for his own good, I have a feeling it will get him in trouble one day and I mean like fatal ones. You could say it’s not my place to fret but I can’t help it.

“And I guess I’ve been a little confused, _made_ a little confused,” he snorts looking down to where his hands have been massaging each other to smooth out nothing, a bittersweet smile on his lips that he can’t seem to bring himself to wipe away. “With the cheerful façade he keeps intact, one’d think Kwon Soonyoung’s the happiest guy on earth. That’s so not true when there’s a whole universe hidden away in his eyes, when there’s sadness in his supposedly sincere smiles and I wanna learn why.”

He could feel it, tight around his thumb but only because his fist’s being clenched—clenched to the point his knuckles can’t go impossibly paler. He could see it, how as individuals their colors enhanced by the natural light are breathtaking and they shine on their own. He could also see that, nevertheless, when placed side by side they match impeccably—sometimes you just know things are there to complement each other from a look alone.

And he wonders if _they_ are anything like that. Best if they’re not, so that it’ll be easier on Jihoon’s part when it’s time to let go.

“You see, at his mother’s funeral,” habits are hard to resist so Jihoon doesn’t, spinning away with his only accessory lodged on his ring finger. Its calming effect’s immediate as always. “Though he did his best to hide it I could tell it took a lot from him but the real surprise was…to be honest it took a toll on me as well. It hurt to see him looking like a lost child. A lost child who acted strong to assure any other souls the opposite of what he was. The guy was anything but okay, but he did just that. And it makes me wanna protect that. I wanna protect him, hyung.

“But if,” he looks up to blink away the pricking sensation. A shaky exhale soon follows. “But if he’s really asking for it, then I don’t wanna be the one holding him back or more like I _can’t_.”

His voice breaks at the end and he hates it. His emotions are making him into a sap for Seungcheol to mock and he hates that even more.

“Has it truly been one month? How’d it even get this deep? Yah, Lee Jihoon, slow down. You might get a heartbreak at this rate,” the older responds in absolute awe, ends it with a little teasing. Sends said male hiding behind their largest throw pillow burying head first into it, out of embarrassment or anything else. “It’s not that I don’t approve of your first ever crush starting off a weird relationship—wouldn’t have expected otherwise to be honest—I just don’t want my little brother to get hurt.”

Jihoon knows that tone too well for his comfort—Choi Seungcheol would turn overprotective at just mere possibility of something or someone hurting his precious brother. Sometimes it makes Jihoon feel important and such, but other than that he finds it plain annoying because, is he a little child who can’t stand up for himself?

“But you know what?” Seungcheol chirps. “As much as I don’t want that, I’d hate for him to have regrets later in life as this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing I believe?”

Seriously, where else can he find a brother this dedicated and this wonderful?

“Stop looking slumped like it’s already over,” at the lack of response the older nags further but not unkindly. “If I say it’s not, it’s not! If you see no way to turn things around, _I’ll_ think of one!”

Least surprisingly, when Jihoon lowers his current personal shield of a cushion peeking through his bangs, someone’s already by his side crouching.

“Look, I understand you’re _insufferably_ cautious about this matter and it’s really up to perspectives but,” Seungcheol takes his hand in both of his, patting it with care, with love. Cues Seungcheol and his sensible hyung (dad) mode. “If I were you, I’d give it a try.”

“But how do I do that?” Jihoon unconsciously twists the corner of his mouth in thought (cutely, in Seungcheol’s opinion). It’s refreshing seeing him being a complete novice in this stuff.

“Frankly, the fundamental way’s always been communication, for language exists for a reason, am I right?” No reaction. “Just tell him how you feel. You mean to confess? Yes. You said his mom’s gone? More reason to do it quickly.”

“But-”

“Yeah yeah, figured you wouldn’t like that method so here’s another one, which guarantees greater success rate.” The younger falls mute once more, hopefully due to anticipation. “Path of _seduction_.”

Jihoon can feel his mouth promptly drop open yet no words come out.

“Considering it? Great!”—Seungcheol claps in intended oblivious (just to annoy him, in Jihoon’s opinion)—“Now, I’m sure you know the drill but for the sake of good practice: dig it but protect yourself; if there ever comes the slightest gist that he’s becoming not worth it, pull out. Your room’s still as you left it.”

He’s eight steps out of the complex when his phone begins to buzz. The caller’s ID makes him look back up but not uselessly.

 _“Glad to know ‘m still your first go-to choice,”_ Seungcheol’s soft tone greets him right away, the man himself waving from the balcony. “I completely forgot—how’re Junnie and Seungkwanie, and their boyfies?”

“Remember Minghao’s lost earrings? I bet Junhui’s still out looking for them. About the maknaes, enjoying their first date I suppose?”

Seungkwan’s claimed it as a ‘friendly’ hang out at Hansol’s but they all know it’s his first time to the latter’s place.

 _“Ah young love…”_ muses the person on the line dreamily. _“Some sorcery, black magic going on here huh? Even my Siberian prince’s thawing.”_

“Ew,” Jihoon doesn’t care he just said that into the line, makes sure his screwing face is detectable to the moon and back. His fingers and toes are curling but definitely not due to the weather.

_“By the way, how are you so sure he still has no idea whatsoever? There’s a lot he can find out about, no?”_

Jihoon’s positive about his answer but stops himself, falling mute instead. Now he’s to ask himself _why?_ Good thing it gets dropped almost instantaneously.

 _“Aish- forget I ask,”_ Seungcheol dismisses, must’ve felt his voice getting muffled by the wind because his next line comes a tad louder, _“Just, be courageous. Things come and go, Ji. Fuck it or leave it, and I_ _mean_ _that_ _literally.”_

That’s not a lot coming from Choi Seungcheol, though Jihoon kinda wishes his lovely brother had a switch off button for his life lessons that are mostly unheard of from anywhere else.

But if it means a smile forced out of him from somewhere unknown, Jihoon’s not totally against it. “Thanks a lot, Seungcheol hyung,” he blurts.

Said hyung holds what Jihoon assumes is a thumbs up. _“Don’t mention it. Bbf, best bros forever, remember?”_

Feeling his eyes prick once as per usual, Jihoon gives him a curt nod and ends the call.

That’s when it delivers, and the man would like to believe this time it’s due to the weather that his fingers quiver as they tap on the screen.

**_Kwon_ **

Sat, Sep 14, 11:22 AM

Let’s divorce.

“I did it, Won.”

When flopping at the foot of the bed does nothing to elicit any calculated reaction, he begins messing with the comforter.

“Did you hear me? I effing-ow!”

“You know what else you could do? Stop breaking into people’s places like a creep—mine to be exact—and instead give heads-ups when you’re gonna drop by,” the place’s owner hisses with gruff morning voice. Only to add levelheadedly afterwards (whatta bastard), “You were saying somethin’?”

From the floor where he’s been gracefully sent to by feet, face-planting style and all, Soonyoung’s determined, grateful even, because at least he’s granted the permission to speak of some sort. “You were right. About that. About everything,” he says, melded words just few degrees above incoherence.

Unbiasedly, there’re times he has doubts about the other’s true ability—whether he really is that good at guessing, or at making it _look_ _like_ he knows what he’s talking about and is just a bag of luck. And the man himself says as much.

“Am I ever not?” Wonwoo smirks even when he’s as blind as a bat, judging from how his hands are reflexively fumbling on the nightstand for nothing other than his glasses.

“What’s with the tone?” Soonyoung whips his head backward just to pout at him. “You sound, almost like you won lottery…I mean, did you?”

“I don’t even buy lottery to begin with,” Wonwoo shakes his head, marveled at his best friend’s ability to get distracted. With glasses finally on and being able to see, he shrugs the duvet off of himself. “And there was no tone. I just guessed. Not that you didn’t look like it.”

The childish pout deepens. “Like what?”

“A sad clown. Might say sadder than at Ahjumma’s funeral.”

“…Yah-”

“I know, I know, just kidding,” Wonwoo pats him on the shoulder on his way to the bathroom, only reappears after having taken care of his post-sleep breath and crusted eyes.

Even then, all the housebreaker of a best friend has done is move his butt back onto the mattress—the reason, Wonwoo figures, is simply because the cold hard wood isn’t the fluffiest thing on earth—all the while staring unblinking at the only framed picture in the kitchen—it’s of black-and white-striped kittens—which only makes his tear duct look like it’s gonna burst any minute.

Knowing the other, Wonwoo goes turn on his computer and puts on his headset for a dearly missed gaming session. He spins around in the comfortable swivel chair with his legs pulled up and criss cross applesauce while he waits for his saved game file to load, during which Soonyoung slumps onto the mattress and tries his best to become one with Wonwoo’s black comforter.

Wonwoo likewise doesn’t comment on it, letting him be, and just picks up where he left off.

Only after being startled up with a start does Soonyoung realize he’s fallen asleep for real. Second thing that comes to him is the sound of something being tossed off not so carefully onto the desk and third is Wonwoo staggering out the room probably to get snacks, which gets Soonyoung to rub at his eyes, jiggle his head and fix his hair a little, before trailing after him.

In the more airy space of the high-ceiling kitchen, the (impromptu) host takes out a carton of orange juice from the fridge, pours a glass for himself before wordlessly slides one to the guest, too, who accepts it with grabby hands from where he’s seated himself on a stool.

“Toast, guest-nim?” Wonwoo offers holding up a loaf of bread.

“Someone’s being ooc nice to me today,” said guest-nim remarks sporting a skeptical look.

If only he knew the bread is at least one week old he wouldn’t be saying that, Wonwoo thinks. “Don’t want _someone_ to badmouth me later for being a bad host,” he says instead, already popping two pieces into the crumb-ful slots. “So?”

“Had it for brunch plus ‘m kinda in the mood for ramyun right now, so no thanks,” Soonyoung declines, not at all because the choice of food awfully reminds him of this morning’s hopeful-gone-awry incident.

Wonwoo takes one out and presses down the lever, nevertheless subtly raises his brow. “Did you mean what I think you did?” he wants it to be casual, facing the toaster in a languid manner.

“If you say so, I guess I do.”

The other’s shrug is palpable even with his back to him and Wonwoo swings one-eighty degrees back. “Soonyoung-”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung copies his sigh but maybe his comes out a tad bit heavier.

“You didn’t heed a word of mine for the longest time,” Wonwoo continues when Soonyoung doesn’t, figures he can start by stating the obvious. “What brought on the sudden realization?”

“This, no one could deny this even if they wanted to.”

_And are you one of them?_

“Saw him rummaging through my stuff. With my own eyes,” Soonyoung discloses, then gets to panicking. “You think he’s after _this_? Since it’s not entirely legal to be getting paid for-”

“But in the term of _marriage_ _of_ _convenience,_ it isn’t entirely illegal either,” Wonwoo counters with ease. Even so, the other seems unwavering, prompting him to get out the full version of: “If he was after you for that, as little as I know Lee Jihoon, you wouldn’t get the chance to be fretting here but long finished and rotting in jail.”

“You’ve a point but…” Soonyoung halfheartedly nods, exhaling in thought through fingers making a check mark, thumb supporting his chin. “If not that, why else? What other reason- _oh_.”

Soonyoung stills then. Wonwoo unconsciously does too.

“I knew it. The old man.”

It’s not because of the distance put between the mentioned and the speaker—he’s gotten used to that—but because Wonwoo can’t quite remember the last time Soonyoung’s brought him up. Though obviously it’s not a great thing the son still gives the father the cold shoulder and feels just as much hostility toward him after all this time. But one attends only to one’s family affairs.

“Ah, I really won’t be surprised if it has something to do with, him,” Soonyoung ruffles his hair, sounds almost sarcastic which is understandable. “Adding the recent cleanup at the airline, everything falls nicely into place. Eureka found.”

“That’s also over and done with like, a month ago?” Wonwoo begs to differ. “Yet Lee Jihoon’s still here. Unless he’s _that_ desperate for money?”

“He could be,” Soonyoung makes a pointless comment before he downs the glass, finishing it clean with a noise short of civilized. “Kinda wish this was alcohol. Do we have beer at least?”

Wonwoo thinks whimsically how brazen his best friend must be to be able to put forward a request like that without so much as a blink. “As a matter of fact, yes,” he mutters in reply.

“…And? Are you gonna give this desperately thirty guest some or what?”

Said petty best friend also sure knows how to let other people know when he’s annoyed.

“Can’t, I’m leaving later,” Wonwoo tells him, retrieving his lunch from the toaster.

Under normal circumstances, it’s not advisable to let Kwon Soonyoung drink alone. Under _current_ circumstances? Go figure.

As backasswards as it sounds, Soonyoung’s lips breaks into a smug smile. “ _Ha_ , look who’s catching up with his weekly hours now.”

“Now that we’re on the topic,” Wonwoo calculatedly deflects, stalling himself some time to speed-think by means of taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing. “It was a shocker, partial respect, and maybe plenty concern you’ve taken _not_ a day off, and _definitely_ a disbelief to know you still went on to see the show. Wasn’t it like, two days after?”

“To tell you the truth, I, too, found it sudden and completely out of the blue—how she left—which is plausibly why the only thing I could come up with was to get busy. Just so I wouldn’t lose it, y’know what I mean?”

The reason Wonwoo stiffens isn’t how unexpectedly fast the answer’s come but a line he’s so dutifully crossed, for without any MSG whatsoever that was quite positively the first time Soonyoung’s (willingly or not willingly) brought up his mother since her funeral. He’d even say the son’s been avoiding the topic that he, too, has been doing the same in a sense that he’s asked less about it than he’d call appropriate for a best friend of more than twenty years.

And as a matter of fact, Kwon Soonyoung’s been keeping his words of ‘not losing it’ which, by the way if anything, makes it more worrying rather than the opposite.

“And for your enlightenment,” Soonyoung’s voice pulls him out of his thought. “That…concert, Mom’d have wanted us to go.”

“Us?”

“You know which ‘us’ I was talking about,” his tone is either annoyed or dejected. What’s certain is that he’s visibly deflated. “Not that it matters anymore.”

Wonwoo didn’t mean to echo. Of course he knows, has to, for it was in all respects _his_ idea Soonyoung go and try get tipsy Lee Jihoon to talk. The reason to leave the man in question on read? _In_ _case_ Soonyoung chickened out in the middle and ended up not going. But all this was formulated before the car accident so the former’s reaction hasn’t been total nonsense.

Still, Soonyoung ended up going.

Didn’t chicken out on the going part, only to chicken out on drinking. Thanks to that, their plan showed signs of failing and it really would have, if not for the elevator’s stupid glitch and his nyctophobia acting up.

Why’d he not manage to get even a drop of alcohol in his own system let alone Jihoon’s, you may ask, when drinking’s pretty much one of the easiest way to bond with someone including stranger—especially stranger. And with him having just cremated his own mother, you’d imagine he’d got more than enough reasons to be in need of a drinking companion.

Obviously it wasn’t because Soonyoung was cowering from rejection or humiliation from that, wholeheartedly believed Jihoon’d have agreed to drink with him had he asked. Quite the opposite, he was nervous.

You may ask again, why now?

Long story short, Soonyoung doesn’t think he’ll be able to drink with the smaller male as in _ever_ , for fear of his own mouth slipping something it shouldn’t— _the_ _things_ it shouldn’t.

To justify the mistake on his part: Lee Jihoon is simply something else, in the sense that a couple shots wouldn’t have much impact on him despite his being a lightweight. And if they were to go beyond that, Soonyoung himself would’ve been the one who didn’t last.

Back to the night which still brings chills to Soonyoung’s whole being whenever, his consciousness came round just in time for him not to miss a silhouette, on their tiptoes—the sight was adorable, his mind had so unhelpfully observed—putting away a box he could recognize anywhere in a heartbeat. After all, it was like his treasure box except the fact that Soonyoung wants it gone, sunk to a trench where no one can find it, just hasn’t decided where would be the most inauspicious and by extension the best choice.

That act alone backed up, if not validated, their supposedly almost unthinkable assumption—for Soonyoung, it was absurd even.

It’s always the ‘almost’ that turns—in this case, flips—the table. Soonyoung doesn’t want to believe it either, that he’s been insensitive to the surveillance of essentially his own housemate, but what other explanation is there?

Till this day, it’s still reassured Lee Jihoon has no idea _he_ _knows_ , or there would’ve been some sort of warning or even some smothering while asleep—the smaller looks the type to do so, and discoveries from his recent venture to a bar certainly aren’t of help.

Speak of the devil, surreal yesterday resurfaces, becomes a prominent thing in his head before Soonyoung could tell it not to. He tries screwing his eyes but it’s not going away.

_Right, I should accept it by now that Jihoon is…_

His throat feels sandpaper dry, yet Soonyoung doesn’t remember gulping takes this much effort.

_Yeah, there’s no deny Jihoonie is…undeniably a-_

“So, what are you gonna do now?” Wonwoo, ever so timely, asks with thinly veiled concern. Whether or not he’s been observing Soonyoung struggling with his breathing is left undiscussed.

“It’s not like I have any other choice,” Soonyoung wills his face to normal. “In fact, I already told him. That I want a divorce.”

“Finally.”

“What finally?”

“Repeat what you just said and you’ll know.”

“The ‘I’ve made up my mind to proceed with divorcing my fake spouse who’s been creepily snitching on me for reasons unknown’?”

Wonwoo nods.

“W-why? What’s wrong with that? It’s all I could think of in this situation!”

“Well, you just confirmed there’s been something going on—somehting more than what your relationship entitles.”

He can only gauge at him, more confused as to where did that come from? And in what way is that possibly relevant to this?

Wonwoo gives up and points it out for him. “You know it’s not like you to be so specific?”

For a bland statement, Soonyoung’ll admit it takes him a moment too long to process. But what matters is he does eventually and that they’re now on the same page.

“—I call this defamation! Of course _not._ That’s just not-”

“Acceptable? Allowed? In the contract?”

They end up having an unintentional staring match, although Soonyoung gives up within two seconds.

“Yeah right, who am I kidding,” the guest slides down the granite counter like some kind of wretched jelly, looking sideways with his face on an arm. Nevertheless Wonwoo can see the gradual coloring of those squished cheeks. “Was I that obvious?”

“You should’ve seen yourself whenever his name comes up. And your lovesick gaze, _ew_ ”—Wonwoo cringes all dramatic, just the way he knows ticks Soonyoung off—“it’s either he’s oblivious or housemate-zoning you.”

“Then _you_ should’ve just followed your passion in theater instead of me into flight school,” Soonyoung mumbles jokingly then seriously. “For real though, will you ever stop being an obnoxious smartass…”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Wonwoo snorts. “His answer?”

“Get back in three business days.”

“He’s making you _wait_?” he says in so great disbelief Soonyoung can’t help but snap up to correct him in a voice more snappy than intended.

“ _No_ , _I_ gave him time, to think it over.”

Seeing him like this, Wonwoo can’t resist the itch to bring it up. Toast half-finished and balancing on top of the glass’s rim, he leans forward. “Has it ever occurred to you why your mom’d wanted to marry you off so badly?”

“So I can start taking care of myself yadda yadda yadda I know what the deal is—was— _but_ I’m taking care of myself, all right?”

Albeit not one hundred percent sure whether giving Lee Jihoon three days to make a decision’s been a serious deal, Wonwoo can kinda tell despite the casual tone he was going for that Soonyoung was indeed thrown off by his own correction. Poor thing.

“Actually,” this time it’s Soonyoung who starts, blunt nails clinking the side of his own glass creating an unneeded arrhythmic sound which resonates throughout the place in such a depressing way. “Way back before this fiasco started, when I was still going to those meaningless blind dates and such, I once asked my mom, ‘What if marriage life is hard I can’t take it?’ Like how she did it with…her _ex_ -husband. Something like that. And can you guess what she said?”

Lips pressed together, Soonyoung watches as condensation rolls down to damp his nails, blinking in sync with it, and Wonwoo won’t be surprised if the man suddenly breaks into tears or that the shake of his own head in lieu of answer goes unnoticed.

“She said, if it ever comes to that, the best thing I could do is to not be in her way– I mean _his_ way, whatever. That’s what she said, Won,” his face straightens then.

The odds are Kwon Soonyoung’s once again entered his overthinking mode, evidenced with a serious look on his face, which normally is best not to go against. This time, however, Wonwoo feels like he’ll regret it if he doesn’t.

“How do you know divorcing him is ‘not being in his way’?”

“About that, it’s rather complicated.”

“Well, that’s up to me to decide,” Wonwoo says with an unusual amount of decisiveness. “Did something happen? During the concert? After that? Whenever?”

To his confusion, Soonyoung laughs. “Aren’t you one hypocrite, Jeon Wonwoo. The only one been telling me to be on the lookout but what’s that you were sayin’? Think twice about divorcing him? He’s only been invading my privacy for God knows how long!”

“He’s an undercover sent to spy on you, you sure about that part?” Wonwoo presses. “I mean, never mind. Forget I said anyth-”

“I can see it in his eyes,” Soonyoung speaks before he could change his mind. “That we’re of the same kind,” _people with good reflexes-_ “people with no interest for commitment. A relationship is the last thing I need right now—or ever—and he… I mean, that should be enough why we’re bad for each other.”

“Do you still hold the same opinion as before though?” To that, Soonyoung offers nothing. Wonwoo sighs. “I’ll ask again, what happened between you and him?”

 _Nothing, that’s what happened. Nothing, I just found out that Jihoonie is a sex worker. Part-time job be damned._ “That’s a good question, actually,” he dodges.

“Quit beating around the darn bush already-”

“I dunno! It just hurts, Won, it friggin’ hurts!” the second time Soonyoung yells, he’s doing so while thumping his chest, the only thing supporting him is a tight grip on the counter’s edge.

Wonwoo finds himself softening because alas, the damn dam’s broken—not a thing to celebrate but, that’s exactly Wonwoo feels like doing. “The fact that he broke your trust?” his tone becomes that of a whisper.

“No! The fact that I can’t have him despite knowing he likes me too!”

Maybe it’s courtesy of someone who’s been on blind dates as though it was his hobby, but that part couldn’t have been easier to tell—how the man acts like a complete tsundere around him alone was a dead giveaway. That, and other things intangible. Ineffable.

Even without Mother, he used to single-mindedly believe that once they found ways around their gratuitous feelings, they could have their happy ending.

Disappointingly, as abundantly cliché as it is, happy endings truly only exist in fairy tales, along with Prince Charming and Wicked Stepmother. Lee Jihoon deserves someone better—someone that’s neither with a massive mortgage to pay back nor on verged of being fired—and Kwon Soonyoung isn’t it. Won’t ever be now.

That’s why he called for this to stop, for it has to.

“…He does? Then why…?” Wonwoo’s calm feature breaks as he’s sent into another stupefaction.

_Because your friend doesn’t possess enough courage to take the lead and say it’s okay, that it changes nothing at all and yet-_

“Don’t you dare pull the ‘he’s too good for me’ bullshit. This ain’t some melodrama,” the taller tacks on.

“But he is!” attests Soonyoung.

Wonwoo looks at him in real disbelief. “What’s gotten into you these days? You’re being so confusing above all things.”

“And you’re the pot for saying that,” Soonyoung looks away to sulk, trying his best to tune out any sound including their unparalleled breaths and liquid sloshing from glasses being refilled.

“You did fall for him for no one’s sake,” Wonwoo says dryly as he slides the glass back to him.

“I did for _my_ _own_ sake. It’s just…” he sighs. “Now that I’m done falling for him, I oughta let him go.”

Gulping down the glass without checking its contents almost makes him double over, for what’s currently in it—or what’s left of it anyway—is no longer of bright orange color. And never before has Soonyoung felt so grateful towards beer—half a can at that since the host so generously saved the other half for himself.

“Sorry to disappoint but I don’t think you’re ever _done_ falling for him,” Wonwoo does a toast gesture before sipping his portion. “Plus I don’t think that’s how it works around here. Isn’t it only natural for you guys to hold onto each other when it comes to mutual pining?”

Soonyoung smiles lightly at him, thankful for the little alcohol and everything else. “There’s nothing more I can do, Wonwoo, and you of all people should know that.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Both fall silent after that, nursing their own beer.

“In spite of that, it’s completely okay,” adds Soonyoung as an afterthought once there’s nothing more to nurse. “Time for me to grow out of this anyway.”

 _Plus plus, I don’t think it’s something you can grow out of_ , Wonwoo wants to tell him that but eventually settles for: “For once, Kwon Soonyoung, I hope you won’t wear your thought on your sleeve.”

That prompts the accused to look at the accuser. “I’m _not_.”

Wonwoo scrutinizes right back. “Yeah, just like the ring on your finger.”

“What’re you talking about? It’s- …you’re right?” Not that Jeon Wonwoo’s ever wrong but, his being mistaken this time really leaves Soonyoung nonplussed. “Eh, but that’s strange? I was definitely wearing it yesterday-”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t make it obvious to the outside world. Better end it quietly, you know?”

“-Where could it have gone? Perhaps I dropped it in your- ow!”

“You alright over there?” Wonwoo hollers before sauntering over to the one who’s apparently run into his bedroom’s door and is currently lying on his side beside it. Very stationary, too. Or _too_ stationary. “Soonyoung?! Soon-”

Wonwoo thinks he was almost visited by a heart attack right then and there but alas the idiot _moves_.

“Yeah, yeah, all’s peachy,” Soonyoung rubs his forehead as Wonwoo helps him up slowly. “Just, dizzy from hangover.”

“You still went without me?” he nearly drops him at the confession but manages to get his shit together fast enough, unlike some people. “Sorry for bailing but—don’t tell me you drank _alone_.”

“I did and it was nothing. Proof? I drove myself home.”

“And proof that you drove yourself home?” It was a dare with no actual expectation for an answer, which nevertheless comes.

“Jihoonie—”

Soonyoung bites his tongue upon realizing his blunder but it’s too late then.

“…Jihoon _ie_?” Wonwoo parrots setting them down the make-shift sofa.

Unnerved is all Soonyoung is right now, yesterday’s happenings and a mantra of ‘Jihoonie is a sex worker’ coming right up. Wonwoo’d be able to put two and two together and without doubt deduce that they met at the bar but Soonyoung’s just said he drank alone? Like, ‘something doesn’t add up here’ or ‘I smell something fishy-

“He saw you driving in?”

Soonyoung finds himself nodding. It’s always white lies that save the day—his to be specific. “Go ask him if you don’t trust your own best friend that much,” he responds with an edge to hide his derailed nerves.

“But you were telling me to trust _his_ _eyes_ just now, weren’t you?” comes a sage retort, as expected from one with an immunity to his pouts. “A little unconvincing he wasn’t asleep.”

“My thoughts then, exactly.”

The taller looks him over once more before he asks, cautiously, “Is there something else going on, Soons?”

“Later, Won,” Soonyoung’s fast to promise with a supposedly reassuring smile. “Later, and I’ll tell you everything.”

(If anything, Wonwoo doesn’t think the best friend’s looked too sure about his words either. What’s more, where the wedding band has gone is still a mystery to this day, though he blames it on the owner’s negligence.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update  
> school dispirits me, sincerely  
> but then they say you'll most likely miss high school the most*sigh*


	9. Take me drunk, I'm home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He really left,” Seungkwan narrates uselessly as the two—three?—of them watch their common protagonist stomp back to where he’s come.  
> “Just like that,” agrees Chan belatedly for lack of a better thing to do.  
> “Cold blooded,” mumbles Soonyoung but anticlimactically in a more happy-go-lucky tone than the previous two. “Shall we see what’s there…fish, frog, f-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot yesterday was a Wednesday lol  
> Anywhos, this could be counted as rate...M? It won’t go all the way though (cuz im baby) but feel free to skip the last part if you didn’t bargain for this

“Aren’t you _the_ _girl_ from that night?”

“When’s your next show and could I maybe reserve a ticket row-zero like that pal?”

“A cute lil ass you’ve got there, bud.”

“Will you dance for me—in private? I’ll pay you extra. Thrice—”

“Where did you get that choker? Really nice. _I_ _like_ _it_.”

“When does your shift end? Big bro’ll wait for you then we can go have _some_ _fun_. Girlfriend’s not home today.”

“You look _so_ _much_ _better_ in red. And robes—”

Despite having once claimed to be immune to such pointless wolf whistles, dirty jokes, and nasty remarks, Jihoon can’t deny their existences, much less their becoming a growing pain in the anus for the past three nights following his return to the bartender post. Yet, these new faces somehow make even a normally run-of-the-mill Monday night into a lively one and that’s maybe the only favorable thing coming out of this.

It’s pretty much written all over their faces why—or to be more accurate _who_ —they’re here for.

Like this one woman who keeps leering at him in what he believes is her discreetest way, just that when you’re at the receiving end you become hyperaware of everything—in short, he notices it anyway. What about her is that she hasn’t really said a word aside from her order, which Jihoon can’t decide is a good thing or the opposite.

He can cut her some slack, Jihoon supposes, and focus on something he should be, such as actually doing his job right. After all, some orders were misplaced tonight and although Seungkwan hasn’t called him out for it, it’s impossible the punctilious manager of the decade hasn’t noticed either.

Given his problem, though, it might as well be impossible to feel like doing so.

In truth, what Jihoon _feels_ _like_ most right now—which he’s sure absolutely nobody gives a flying flamingo about—is going home to probably sleep it off, not only with the hope that everything’ll be back to normal by the time he wakes up but that he won’t be so utterly affected by those statements like he’s-

“You seem _out of it_ , hyung, why don’t you go take a five?” Seungkwan not only just shows up in his face but also snaps him out of his trance literally with his fingers; and knowing Jihoon’s got only one answer, the young manager quickly waves his index in his face to shush him. “Uh uh, _no_ _buts_ when you’ve messed up two orders tonight. Shoo. Come back when your head clears.”

Seungkwan has to widen his eyes, stupefied, when the older doesn’t put up a verbal fight like he usually does. You see what he meant? How out of it is that?

Well, Jihoon sure could’ve come up with some retaliation like ‘ _They_ mess up my orders’ but what’d be the point of that? The end line is he’s distracted, or even distraught. Has been.

Since the girls and plus some boys must be currently occupying the break room and Jihoon’s not psycho enough to go in there (he knows they wouldn’t mind, couldn’t care less, but) and make them somewhat uncomfortable, the male bartender saunters to the storeroom which appears to be void of people. Nothing out of ordinary. His flopping onto a metal chair causes a loud screech which helps very much with the throbbing in his head.

Three days aren’t enough to settle for one decision or another, Jihoon’s learnt that the hard way, Seungcheol’s compact advice proved to be kind of no avail. So to say, he’s been having a ceaseless headache for that amount of time that it might’ve turned into a migraine by now, the same things a constant on his mind: Kwon Soonyoung, how to deal with him, and their sham marriage that’s coming apart at the seams—which shouldn’t be described that way only had Jihoon’s feelings not decided to grow on the wrong person.

The fact is Jihoon can’t see Soonyoung go, but the even bigger fact is he can’t see himself being the one to hold the other back.

 _So, right person, but wrong time,_ a voice inside him corrects.

Doesn’t matter anyway.

Tomorrow he’s gonna be ready to act like a responsible mature adult that he claims to be and tells the guy this, and this is Rational speaking: if Mr Kwon’s really asking for it, then Lee Jihoon’s gonna give it to him.

Emotional counters: but what about what Mrs Jung told you? You can’t just ignore her liberal compassion-

“Arrrgh.”

If your head splitting into two sides to counter each other with you being the middle guy with no say but have to be there to witness it nevertheless is what going crazy feels like, Jihoon feels exactly that.

“ _Jihoonie!_ ”

A whiplash gets him to rub at his neck soon after. _I’ve really gone crazy_ , Jihoon tries calming his frantic heartbeats, but then he hears it again, this time only louder and lengthier.

“ _Jihoonieee~_ ”

Well, if his ears didn’t just malfunction twice, on this earth in his lifetime there’re only two idiots who are _not_ afraid of their premature death enough to call him by that nickname, namely Choi Seungcheol or-

The only door in the room bangs into the wall, revealing a rather disheveled-looking Seungkwan. “Hyung! I think you need to get out there…”

The other idiot.

He hears some clamors before he sees that some of the staff has decided to ditch their respective posts to surround one particular table, more than unproductively hiding it from Jihoon’s view. But other than that things seem to go on as per normal with the place as a whole looking generally unaffected; the other clients probably take it as some sloshed dude throwing a tantrum, the common occurrence beside violence.

“Where’s heeem?” The whine’s unmistakable, with syllables somewhat meshed together. “You said you’d get my-”

“Soonyoung.”

Jihoon’s thankful to have managed to get past the body of aimless bystanders before another embarrassing sentence gets out of that mouth or that a guard moves from their spot. Beside him, Seungkwan starts shooing the employees back to their job and away from the area (of interest) at once—such a rare occasion that his authority as the manager’s used for a good cause and when Jihoon thinks about it, the reason the manager’s just joined them is probably the same as to why their security is not intervening.

“Ah Jihoonie! Finally! You came!” the reason of Jihoon’s prior panic starts waving grand and wobbly in his stool seat even though they’re basically at arm’s length right now, adding to that is a cliché dreamy grin on his lips.

Jihoon resists the urge to cringe and turns a deaf ear to the disconcerting greeting to look questioningly at the other male who seems more communicable despite the mildly shocked face.

“What part-time job,” Chan scoffs under his breath but instantly gets to explaining the moment Jihoon’s glare turns unforgiving. “Ahem, um, so, we went to another pub earlier since I promised him I’d. When we were finished there it was obvious he was already drunk.”

Jihoon’s thought it weird the bouncers let in someone with essentially a first offense since it’s not likely they’ve forgotten Soonyoung’s face from last time, even less about the stage incident.

But then the younger adds, “Honestly we couldn’t have gotten in here if it weren’t for Seungkwan hyung.”

At the confession Jihoon snaps a look at the accomplice who’s manifestly blanched from being ratted out, but decides to have some mercy on him (partly because he can deal with so much at a time) and turns back to the cousin pair.

“Why’d you bring him here instead of home- I mean house, _his house_ , anyway?” he asks rather tiredly, one hand reflexively goes to rest on his temple, the other on his hip.

“Auuugh…”

The younger opens his mouth to answer but actually does so after he’s finished panicking at the hurling sound and tending to his troublesome cousin to make sure the guy was just making noises rather than acting on them.

“Soonyoung hyung said he’d just drink alone if I tried put him to sleep,” Chan lets his cousin down on the table blanketed with napkins as gently as he could, his hand never stops rubbing circles into the drunk’s back. “And I’ve been traumatized by letting hyung drink on his own ever since he almost choked himself to death that one time.”

“Then drink with him there.”

It’s like a fucking bulb illuminates his big head, and the jelly thing inside it. “…Ah, that’s also a choice, right?”

_Oh great fucking God, these two and their genes…_

“That’s _my_ _Jihoonie_ , everyone, isn’t he so _sexy_? Ah that thingy on your neck, Jihoon, a ten ten fromme-”

With who they thought has passed out suddenly coming back to life, Chan’s only able to take control of the damn tongue after the damage’s been done, is now giving Jihoon a crooked apologetic smile—or an attempt at that.

Jihoon can do nothing but sigh. He really doesn’t have time for this. “Take him home, will you?” he beg-demands.

“O-okay,” Chan responds, dumbfounded.

It’s only as Jihoon’s turning to go back to his job, deeming his role here finished, does he catches sight of something—or someone—plunging themselves at him from the peripheral of his vision at full speed.

All the same, he’s able to grab Soonyoung before and not _after_ the man’s face becomes some sort of new janitor equipment, surprising everyone in the vicinity with his speed and nanosecond reflex. Well, except the caught man himself, maybe, since he seems too out of it to be making sense of the surroundings.

Both Soonyoung’s hands end up in his, with the man’s body weight primarily supported by Jihoon’s left arm and his face on Jihoon’s shoulder.

“ _Oh_ _please_ ,” Soonyoung’s whispering, and from the lilt in his tone he definitely somehow still has the humor and audacity to joke after all the disaster he almost caused (why it matters is that it would’ve brought Jihoon with him), as though he wasn’t the very same guy who called for a divorce two days ago via _freaking_ _text_ , “ _Take me drunk I’m already, home_.”

The finishing part effectively halts Jihoon who’s in the process of setting them upright, his resolve crumbling. He regrets ever breaking the fall.

“Y-you should get going,” Jihoon breathes, about to hand the man over to his cousin when he feels Soonyoung’s grip on him tightens. “ _Yah-_ ”

“Why don’t you just take him home since I think he’s here…for…” Chan suggests with a start but trails off as quickly, and boy is he the only living proof left of the validity of Jihoon’s (used to be) murderous glare.

“I’m working,” Jihoon says matter-of-factly, finally successful in shoving a mess of Homo sapiens back to Chan.

“You _can_ take him home, hyung,” Seungkwan pipes up with calculated timing. All heads turn to him, even Jihoon’s. “As your superior, I’m more than happy to announce that you’re let off early tonight as in now-”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He can hear someone’s greatest wish or something of the like shattering in the background, or maybe that’s Soonyoung _actually_ whining, but what can he do? He _really_ doesn’t have time for this-

“He really left,” Seungkwan narrates uselessly as the two—three?—of them watch their common protagonist stomp back to where he’s come.

“Just like that,” agrees Chan belatedly for lack of a better thing to do.

“Cold blooded,” mumbles Soonyoung but anticlimactically in a more happy-go-lucky tone than the previous two. “Shall we see what’s there…fish, frog, f-”

“ _Fuck_ he’s coming back!” cries Seungkwan the moment a mop of jet black hair reemerges from the staff room. He could’ve said he was gonna go change out of his work attire or grab his coat or whatever that takes up no more than a minute (seriously), instead he does _this_? For real everyone should learn how to play hard to get from one and only Lee Jihoon, and there Seungkwan’s said what he’s wanted to for forever.

“Get him on my back,” Jihoon calls out once he’s within earshot. He blames the reason his resolve crumbled fully on _the_ pout.

Anyone’d need time to swallow a situation, Lee Chan included. “…What-”

“Do it before I change my mind.”

Fortunately or unfortunately, the younger two practically scramble to make things ready for departure within seconds.

‘He can’t leave this wasted fool to splutter any more nonsense against him’ is Jihoon’s only self-justification as he, bearing two times the weight of that when he came in, navigates for the exit with Chan assisting in the rear. The one above him just seems contented to have his temporary caretaker switched.

“Just don’t forget to make up for it within next month~” Seungkwan bellows after them, referring to Jihoon’s half-missed shift.

“Whatever,” Jihoon shoots back offhandedly, adjusting the grip he has on the jelly-like person while he waits for Chan to get the door.

But then the younger’s shadow keeps on tailing behind them. “Why pester me into this if you’re just gonna tag along?” he can’t help his sounding frustrated.

“Are you sure you can really handle? Soonyoung hyung can be a handful,” Chan says meekly instead of answering, worried, and perhaps guilty to be seeing Jihoon struggling in _his_ stead to defy the gravity now with the half inebriated male on his back. “Ah, you might already know that, but still, we can take my car-”

“Why don’t _you_ just take him? And I can go back to work.”

“…Ah, sorry,” Chan mutters, and Jihoon unnecessarily detects the similarity in the way the two cousins talk. “I’ll leave him to you then! Thank you again, hyung!” he jogs backward following a bow.

Jihoon doesn’t bother replying, just focuses on his staggering but only until the footsteps behind fade into the distance, for the body above him starts twitching then.

“Hey, I can walk on my own,” Soonyoung announces, or more like mumbles into his neck, and it’s just Jihoon’s luck that the part’s as ticklish as his ears. Just his luck.

Satisfied with excuses of ‘fresh air will sober him up’ and that ‘my legs are giving out anyway’, Jihoon lets go of the man who then slides down easily, hitting the asphalt with a loud thud as though he’s jumped.

“You okay?” Jihoon doesn’t quite get himself how they’ll be divorcing tomorrow and he still, in any degree, cares about the guy. “Why’d you drink so much?”

“Because,” Soonyoung sniffs, the cold wind that whooshes by has him shivering which prompts Jihoon to take off his padded coat and be left with only his hoodie. “No! Done need that!” he inserts a meter of road between them at the outstretched hand.

“You’ll get sick. You cousin said you just drank a whole load of shit,” Jihoon chides but gives up on making the other wear it properly after several attempts and just drapes it over the evidently freezing body.

Soonyoung puffs out some steam, expression like that of a child discovering it for the first time. “You know,” he says pausing to puff out more, “how I dooon want children, right?”

The topic is kinda out of the blue but Jihoon indulges him anyway. “You do. You’re just afraid to,” he corrects. They quietly fall into step.

“Well, there’s a reason to that,” Soonyoung looks pensive for a moment, pouting through all of that. “My father, he…just got out recently. From prison.”

Jihoon nods like he doesn’t know where this is going.

“Thirteen years. _Fudging_ _thirteen_ _years_ he was gone, and come to think about it that’s half my life…” Soonyoung fists the fabric atop his chest as though doing so’d relieve him of all the pain he must’ve been feeling, all the agony. Jihoon’s guts don’t sit well with him at the sight. “Children are a blessing but I also thought…what if I turn out to be like him? Or, or what if I can’t be a good role model for them because I- because I myself never have any either?”

Oh has Jihoon been so wrong about this guy. Kwon Soonyoung does think, a lot, just in a way others normally overlook, Lee Jihoon being one of them. Or used to. Which, he realizes, is why letting Soonyoung go seems impossible. The guy’s full of riddles and Jihoon hasn’t solved even half of them. There’s just many more and it urges him on. To stay and learn.

“You and your father are different persons. We can choose or choose not to be something,” Jihoon says what comes to mind at that moment. “Your past may be linked to him, but your present and future _aren’t_. It’s all up to you, Soonyoung.”

“But that doesn’t apply to you?”

The retort catches him off guard, instantly rooted to the spot in the middle of the road. “What?”

Soonyoung stops as well, letting out something similar to a scoff. “I’m not _stupid_ stupid. Of course I’ve heard stories about people working in bars.”

When he turns to look at him, for some weird reason Jihoon feels rather…exposed.

He tongues the sharp curves of his teeth, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. “…It’s my own choice.”

“Really, Jihoon?” Soonyoung cocks a brow trying to search the smaller’s eyes and needless to say failing miserably. “With skills and talents at your level you can go so much farther. Do so much better. Get on with your life instead of-”

“Instead of _what_?” Jihoon snaps, offended at the fact that, according to Soonyoung, he hasn’t been ‘getting on with life’.

“Look,” Soonyoung backtracks. “I don’t know what your deal with that place is but I mean what I said and if my goodwill upset you, then I’m sorry.”

“It’s debts.”

His blurt makes Soonyoung unable to continue his shuffling away. Jihoon looks down again.

“And yeah, you were right. Ma’d always worked as… _you_ _know_ _what_ in one bar or another even before I was born. Who got her impregnated is a whole mystery. Never met him. Hope he’s already dead, like her.”

This time Soonyoung backtracks for real, an apology hot on the tip of his tongue, but Jihoon promptly carries on with his story telling—before he loses the courage to.

“Although, there was also this guy, the bar’s owner whom we called Boss, whom for the longest time I did believe to be my old man—like, biologically—and clang on to that belief until the day Ma told me off.”

There’s a sound of footstep, of heels grating against the frozen ground.

“Anyway,” Jihoon clears his throat before sucking in a breath. “I cleared myself of her debts and got outta there, only to be slapped by reality into reality that I had nowhere else to go because what qualifications did I have? Who’s gonna take me?”

His chuckle sounds cynical even to his own ears. There’s another step taken towards him.

“That’s how I ended up here, and I always deem myself lucky because at this place they treat me normal, like a mortal. And…that’s also when it arrived: an envelope with a passbook, a seal, and a note.”

Another step.

“The opportunity was offered to me once but for some reason I didn’t take it, only did the second time around. Apparently _someone_ so wanted me to go to college they sent money,” he can’t believe he can joke about it now—when the memory seems lost to time. “Well, I learnt about music composition and stuff just to come back here again, partly because they wanted me to. No dead threats just, try having Boo Seungkwan as your manager and you’ll know.” _Or maybe you won’t._

It’s not everything but it’s _something_ ; it’s not quite enough but it’s better than nothing.

The sole reason Jihoon’s able to openly talk about this is because, well, for one, his sole audience’s currently pissed out of his mind he won’t be able to remember much of it after tonight passes anyway. Two is that, technically, if all is to go as intended, this is their last night together as a couple and together _physically_ ; for he doubts continuing to keep in contact with an ex-husband—especially one like Kwon Soonyoung—will do any good to the ‘getting over said ex’ that will definitely come later.

So it can’t hurt to entertain the guy a little bit while getting to be truer about himself in the process, right? Because for all one knows Jihoon could very well be doing this for himself, to feel less of the piling guilt—something like dropping some lies between them.

Which’s funny considering, last time he checked, Lee Jihoon doesn’t give a flying fig about lying to anyone other than Seungcheol. After all, almost all he’s ever told Soonyoung was lies, was it not?

“Jihoonie.”

Although Jihoon thinks he’s been (hyper)aware of Soonyoung and all those ghastly painstaking steps, maybe he’s just been more engrossed in keeping his other unneeded memories at bay to the point that his name being called ever so gently manages to catch him off guard.

 _Back away_ , a voice of his own instinctively fires.

One needn’t be there to know he doesn’t.

“Before this marriage,” it only takes Soonyoung a moment to get going with another story of his own that Jihoon wonders if this is some kind of domino effect? “Mom’d always make me go on these blind dates—some of which, did last for a few months; some, a few weeks; the rest was more like meeting up a few times outta formality—but anyway, you have an idea how many,” he rambles on. “As you’d figure, there were nice girls, rude girls, cute girls, hot girls, and even some guys-”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jihoon asks flatly, matter-of-factly, and he’s genuine with his question because, for the love of God, why in heaven is Soonyoung telling him this? Is he trying to ignite…a jealousy fury? (Because it’s _kinda_ working, so to speak.)

When Soonyoung exhales, a waft of ethanol hits Jihoon in the face reminding him of how close they are now.

“I’d prefer that you look at me as I speak. Please?”

He has no choice but to comply (is afraid the other’ll make him) to be met with a cheeky smile that’s already…there. It’s always there, Jihoon thinks.

“You wanna know why— _ugh_.”

Without any warning whatsoever a small burp, again, hits Jihoon in the face.

(Don’t tell anyone but Jihoon secretly finds it cute, _literally_ disgustingly so, even if he’d taken such grand offense towards it in the past.)

“You wanna know why I drank so much?” the taller of the two tries again, dragging the ‘ch’ consonant out, seemingly not at all ashamed of the normally socially unacceptable previous act of his—that, or the guy’s registered none of it. “You.”

Jihoon fairly doesn’t like the sound of this.

“I think you’re really great, Lee Jihoon,” Soonyoung adds, wistful. “You act all tough but your heart is also the warmest of all.”

“No, that’s-”

“Shhh! Shshsh! I’m not finished!”

A cold finger’s instantly on Jihoon’s lips but why does he feel hot all over?

As if sensing his flusteredness, Soonyoung relocates the hand to the side of his own head instead, then starts patting it, like one’d do to a dog. _His hair looks soft and healthy today,_ the thought is out before Jihoon can stop it.

“My pretty head’d never ever let me do this while sober.” A pause. “So, Jihoon.”

The called male dry-swallows. “Yes?”

“Please _never_ take this personally but…Lee Jihoon.”

Then Soonyoung halts again, expression turning noticeably sourer by the second.

 _Don’t barf now_. “ _Yes?_ ” and Jihoon says again, this time with an amount of sweetness that kills him a little inside—who knows, maybe that helps. _Anything, just fucking don’t-_

“I think I might—you, y’know?”

 _Goddamn- what? What?! Just say it already!_ The smaller male can imagine his patience going extinct at a rapid rate. It’s not that he wants to but time and again does he find himself resorting to this notorious method of his: demands-turn-threats.

“I’ll give you three,” he clicks his tongue. “Say it now or never. One.”

Soonyoung bites his lips. “…I don’t think I’m supposed to say.”

 _I don’t care at this point,_ Jihoon closes his eyes. “Then don’t. Two.”

“No, I mean-”

“Three-”

“A crush!”

The silent that follows is deafening.

His expression is somewhat commendable for not betraying an ounce of surprise even when he’s practically rendered speechless at this point. Slowly Jihoon lets his eyes peek until they’re full open.

Soonyoung, on the other side, seems to take his void of reaction as incomprehension, for the guy only pouts, scrunching up both cheeks of his, then goes to reiterate himself. “I-I think I’ve got a crush on you! Massive one!”

Still, Jihoon can’t process this. This is literally the same guy who demanded the end to their contract, so why…?

“Why?” he dare say his thought out loud.

“Why-” Soonyoung seems offended to the core, eyes dashing around for a while before they land back on Jihoon in more of a glare. “What do you mean why?! Are you disregarding my feelings now?! Didn’t reckon you to be _this_ mean, Jihoonie!”

“I mean—” Jihoon wants to bang his head against a wall, can feel his headache coming back. “When? How?”

“That night,” responds Soonyoung curtly, and the direction in which this is foreseeably heading absolutely terrifies Jihoon. “I’m actually not sorry at all. And if it weren’t for those—security, would’ve kissed you right then and there, seriously.”

 _He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,_ the voice reminds somewhere in the background.

(But aside from the shit spewed at the club, Jihoon doubts Soonyoung’s anything but a little tipsy judging alone from how coherent he’s been.)

“Then that was your mistake,” Jihoon tries shrugging off the idea of it. The entire idea of them having been on the same page, maybe not from the very beginning, but somewhere along the line. “Don’t let yourself be fool by whatever that night was. It was just, not me.”

“No, _your_ mistake,” Soonyoung shoots back without missing a beat. “I won’t ask why, but that night was definitely _you_ doing one of the many incredible things you’re capable of. It’s okay to have more than one persona because I will-”

Jihoon doesn’t know which part of his brain decided this is a good idea either, but kissing Soonyoung—or more precisely, tucking at the taller’s (his own, actually) coat’s collar for their lips to come into contact—is one thought he’s always entertained. Yet maybe the culprit is not at all his brain but his heart, whose beats are currently mad loud in his ears.

As soon as it dawns on him that the act’s not being reciprocated, Jihoon pulls away, mind a little hazy. Not that he just had the virginity of his lips taken away but still it’s rather…embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed by the fact of being rejected that he could break something right now.

That’s why Soonyoung restraining his wrist when he tries to flee practically makes him see red. “Let go,” Jihoon all but growls.

Soonyoung’s response lags—that, or his sense of timing sucks. “Wait, wait, d-did you just-”

“Yeah, I sexually harassed you. Sue me or whatever. Now let go-”

Suddenly there’s a hand around his waist drawing him closer and suddenly those chapped numbing lips are on his again, their noses missing each other by a whisker. And time and again, it’s a one-sided thing since Jihoon’s taken the role of shock-absorbing, albeit his eyes do flutter close out of reflex.

Soonyoung tastes of alcohol, that’s all he was able to make out before the man’s pulling away only to allow their faces a breath in between. Even so, that much time (or lack thereof) is enough for Jihoon to come to the conclusion that it’ll grow on him—kiss or being kissed, as long as it’s with this guy.

“I guess now you can sue me back,” Soonyoung murmurs in the middle of licking his own lips (Jihoon shudders at what that is capable of and _is_ doing to him), prior to his leaning in again. It’s only inevitable Jihoon takes it as the man trying to initiate their third kiss for the night and he’d have told him off because _what are they doing_ , had he not sensed something’s _shifted_ about the way Soonyoung’s holding him. It’s almost like-

Turns out—and Jihoon ain’t even gonna be proud of his psychic ability—sure enough the idiot has passed the fuck out, with his head having dropped on Jihoon’s shoulder in fucking slow motion and the hand on his waist having faltered to his bum. Such a perfect way to ruin it after spouting those romantic crap (and such a nice location to place his hand, too).

To tell the truth, it would’ve been a nice feeling if only the taller isn’t so heavy; the thought alone of having to carry that weight all the way by himself makes Jihoon groan earnestly.

_At least he hasn’t blown chunks on you and that’s good. That’s good enough Lee Jihoon._

An eternity later, Jihoon finds himself back in the purple galaxy bedroom whose owner’s either not present or unconscious whenever he does. How bizarrely coincidental is that.

Not so long after being put on his back, Soonyoung decided devilishly to make it harder for Jihoon by starting to sweat buckets albeit his skin being icy cold, it’s safe to say the man’s become a sticky fleshy mess by the time they made it home.

And now he’s making it impossibly harder for Jihoon—not only figuratively if you’d figure—by stripping himself as soon as his ass hits the bed, the coat Jihoon’d given him long abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. (When did he become conscious again? Has he been conscious _the_ _whole_ _time_?)

But anyway, cue for Jihoon to go.

And it’s weird, Jihoon thinks as he tiptoes to the door. Almost like Soonyoung’s been shifting between being intoxicated and not, or maybe he’s just playing Jihoon to his advantage. His advantage of-

“Where’re you going?” Soonyoung protests with his tee stuck at his neck, looking like he’s flaunting either his triceps or underarm hair (which is not much by the way).

Jihoon darts his gaze down and regrets it as well (regrets ever looking back to be honest) because now he has to try hard not to eye the stomach that’s showing. Looks jelly though. “I figure you should sleep,” he says.

“Sleep with me.”

It’s been ages since Jihoon last heard that _exact_ phrase—demand—but its effect is pretty much the same, it’s scary. How fascinating yet at the same time terrifying just how _powerful_ the trio is when put together, and how clear-cut they were uttered it has Jihoon’s ears ringing. Brings back memories. Unwanted ones.

His hands find their places on his pants. Still, the shaking won’t go away.

“And yes, I meant it in _that_ context.”

The clarification so doesn’t help anyone’s case. _But if Mr Kwon’s really asking for it-_

“Soonyoung,” he croaks, tries swallowing a lump that came out of nowhere. “I don’t wanna make mistakes and you don’t wanna do what you’ll regret tomorrow when we’ll be divorcing.”

“All the more reason to do it then!” the now topless man reasons unreasonably, throwing the top to the opposite corner of the room before settling down on his toes again. “Besides, I won’t.”

_Divorce?_

“Regret.”

That knocks some senses and finality into Jihoon, popping his last bubble of hope of some sort. “That means you’ll still rid of me, so I can’t,” _get myself hurt, even if it’s for you._ “And don’t expect me to take advantage of you when you’re,” _not in your right mind-_ “drunk.”

“Told you I’m _home_ ,” Soonyoung merely starts giggling with his wide foolish grin, eyes disappearing into crescents. Like he’s the happiest guy in the world. “You don’t have to do anything, Jihoonie,” his voice is soft, placating. “Lemme _just_ take care of that for you.”

At the finger pointing at him—specifically his groin area—Jihoon knows he’s bloody screwed, could feel all the hatred in his entire being directed towards the guy for noticing it.

“That way, there’ll be no taking advantage whatsoever, alright?” Soonyoung only adds, sweet and dangerous.

_He’s asking for it._

No sooner has Jihoon looked down at his hand that’s stopped shaking and is finally on the door handle than his mind registers _hands_ on either of his side caging him flat against the wood.

_Just don’t look up. It’ll go away. He will…probably._

“Please?”

That one little squeak of a plea is all it takes for Jihoon to flip them around, lips finding each other like magnets of polar opposites and instantaneously locking like jigsaw pieces that he suddenly recalls Soonyoung loves so much. The sound as Soonyoung’s back hits the door is loud to the point it should hurt but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all why they’re, again, kissing—or more precisely, why _he’s_ kissing Soonyoung. Because he’s earnestly asked to? No, Soonyoung didn’t ask to be kissed with all that earnestness. And from his experience sleeping with someone needn’t involve kissing. Not necessarily at least.

But like he said, none of it matters at all when Soonyoung’s kissing back just as hard.

With Soonyoung having already made himself shirt-free, Jihoon’s got no problem in accessing the skin he notices has heated up, so he just goes ahead and savors the privilege of running his hands along the fine shoulder blades, then down the bare chest and stomach only so he can buck their hips together creating some unwarranted friction, which sends the other forthright moaning into his mouth and Jihoon might happen to use that fleeting moment to slip his tongue in. It’s not long before he can’t resist the smirk anymore.

 _Just_ _as_ _hard_ he is indeed.

Soonyoung seems to have caught on his smug smile and probably the reason behind it, but before anything Jihoon swiftly moves down to the neck, which ostensibly puts a lid on whatever scheme the man has just fine.

The taller’s sweet revenge comes in the form of a teasing lick at Jihoon’s right earlobe, and Jihoon not necessarily consciously sinks in his nails _and_ both of his canines notorious for their sharpness. Not that he’s complaining—who’s he to, if it results in Soonyoung eliciting such _noises_ not to mention allowing such _beauty_ to exist, but Soonyoung might though.

“I see you’re the ticklish type,” the taller makes a breathy comment barely audible during the unspoken deal of oxygen re-obtaining interval they permit themselves, then goes on to complain somewhat sulkily, “And do you perhaps have a pain kink cuz honest to God did that _hurt_.”

“If I did, the receiving end would’ve been me,” Jihoon points out, amused, albeit mind a little bit if not a lot hazy, before he decides to re-level his eyes with the other’s. “But still, what if I do?”

For reasons unknown, it triggers Soonyoung into making a show of sweeping him off his feet by his thighs. The grip is less than stable at first, like he’s still trying to get used to the feeling but Jihoon decides to kindly ease him into this sudden power assertion by getting comfortable himself, securing his arms around the man’s neck and his ankles precisely below his cheek butts, because what’s a better way to say ‘I trust you’?

“Are you challenging me?” Soonyoung asks when he finally regains his matchless audacity to, done compromising with the gravity—Jihoon’s weight essentially.

“What if I am?” his smirk inevitably spreads into a full grin. He really can’t with this man.

“Pretty is what you are, you know that?” Soonyoung sets off, bounces the one in his hold once to bring them closer. Jihoon might’ve winked unthinkingly when their noses bump. “Maybe I should frame you instead,” he adds looking rather delirious.

“Silly,” Jihoon half-asses out, too occupied with getting lost in the universe that is those eyes of this man in front of him, his guts telling him there’s a big chance they won’t be there tomorrow, doesn’t let go any of his limbs even after Soonyoung’s so delicately laid him down the comforter as though he’d break, only tugging the one above him down to capture him in another kiss, which Soonyoung seems more mentally prepared for than the previous.

He thinks his sighing into the kiss prompts the other to do the same, thinks Soonyoung still tastes a little bit like bourbon or maybe just any type of whiskey now, and an assortment of rums, and regret, guilt, grief, sorrow and pain, fear, and many others he’s all the time in the world to find out. But of course that’s just how he feels which never matters anyway seeing from how he’s practically begging him not to but Kwon Soonyoung seems more than ready to dumb him tomorrow.

At this point, he thinks he’s just gonna have fun, thinks that tears are known to taste like the sea so why’s bitterness only thing down his tongue?

(Maybe not the only thing.)

One way or another, between them and their making out, Jihoon’s hoodie has come off and Soonyoung’s down to his tiger boxers, and facing upward.

“This is not fair. How am I the only one au naturel,” another breath catching time, another petty complain, this time companied by a hinting glare down the still intact shirt. “At least do something to my poor freezing nipple-”

Jihoon abruptly sits up so that he’s straddling the semi-mushy semi-abs stomach (sounds conflicting he knows) with the sensation of a length pressing along the curve of his rear while still getting the best view of the man’s heaving chest and said supposedly deprived nipples, _so_ _that_ he gets a full reaction at what he’s gonna say next, which is, “ _Your_ kink?”

The reaction that returns is anything but disappointment, Soonyoung’s cheeks now two ripe tomatoes. Jihoon takes notes of the beads of sweat that have his hair stuck to his forehead and ears, with some rolling down his already pretty neck line made prettier by those colors presenting themselves in patches and not. The pair of usually plump lips, currently slightly parted in awe or otherwise, is made even more pronounced by being bruised swollen, crimson red, and spit-coated. Kwon Soonyoung just looks very haywire overall but also so very luscious.

Though, Jihoon figures he doesn’t look much different save for the hickeys part thanks to his black turtleneck he’s been refusing to shed.

Soonyoung’s hands come to rest on either side of his hips in the most natural way but never attempt anything further than that, like they’re waiting for permission, and Jihoon’s never known anyone who’s _this_ careful, even for first-timers. (He does appreciate the gesture whether or not it shows.)

“W-wanna know a little secret of mine?” rasps Soonyoung with the need to _say_ _something_ , unconsciously starts thumbing Jihoon’s pants-clad thighs out of nervousness.

 _So random a man,_ Jihoon can’t help the thought.

Instead of answering, lowering himself once more he puts his tongue to use of trailing on the smooth plain of skin from just above the cute belly button all the way up, stopping precisely at the Adam’s apple, finding the way the body shudders as well as the grip on his legs that tightens very satisfying. Soonyoung’s eyelashes are nearly never noticeable from the beginning, yet when creating spider webs over his cheekbones like that they are less blended in with the rest of his facial features when they do meet eyes.

The shivers that zoom down his sweaty back, Soonyoung decides, are both pleasurable and not. Not to mention this fire pit burning greatly in him, and what of those butterflies—it’s like there’re _thousands_ of them ramming into one another while searching for an exit. He’s overwhelmed and most definitely _oversensitized_.

“J-Jihoonie,” Soonyoung tries again only for the theme to repeat itself, the rest of his nonexistent sentence his fused brain formed all but swallowed whole.

It starts with a bottom-lip kiss, many more sucking in between, and breaks off with a maddeningly slow wet one.

“Surprise me,” whispers Jihoon sotto voce as his delicate fingers delicately brush away his own tears from the most beautiful eyes.

And Kwon Soonyoung wouldn’t know a thing more than a name of Lee Jihoon—something he wishes to always be the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost the series’(?) finale. This has come a long way, dramatically speaking. I’d like to give shout outs to any form of interest and support given to this lacking piece of work of mine until now. I’m writing this now only because my brain might uncooperatively go blank when the time comes.  
> That said, if time permitted, of course I’d love to write more because, like it is to many other individuals, writing is a medium where I get to express a part of me without people having to know who I am or what I’m like irl (which isn’t grand btw). TMI: When I first started on this project, I was stuck on the other one. Never thought I’d be able to finish it, considering the amount of my WIPs. But here we are.  
> Again, from the bottom of my heart, as corny as that sounds, thank you.


	10. Airplanes, and those who fly them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe I’ll go live with Mom,” Jihoon says half seriously, gives up on shoving away the stronger one after a minute and purely focuses on not getting his tongue burned or spilling the precious soup. “When that happens, what’ll you do without me?”  
> “Me? Probably die out of boredom,” Seungcheol laughs and Jihoon recalls he needs more of that in his life. Laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #GetwellsoonSeungkwan  
> Thought since the promotion was well over there wouldn't be any more practice. Then remembered about the Japanese comeback lol

_“Can’t we just stay like this?”_

_“No.”_

_He finds the answer’s come too fast for his liking but gets off him anyway. “Why?”_

_“I have my own reasons, I’m sure you have yours”—a sharp gasp for air—“too.”_

_He sits up to be disappointed by the back that’s turned on him, but acts unaffected and instead looks for a tissue box, a task quite compatible with the dark, continues the moment something of similar shape’s in his grasp. “What if you’re wrong?”_

_“…Then you really really should, find your own, reasons.”_

_Maybe he’ll try again tomorrow._

_And a moron that he is for totally forgetting to take into consideration that: what if there’s no such thing as tomorrow? Or for thinking that the sky might not be against him for once._

Sex is a kind of physical exertion, if you tell that to Jihoon just one day earlier he’d have told you to screw off, but here he is now, all but sleep-deprived like never before. And he would stay in this comfortable position for another eon was he not rudely awaken by whatever monstrosity.

A hand begrudgingly out to put an end to the buzzing sound of his alarm, his body more than complains as Jihoon has to tweak it left and right before something phone-like shaped makes it into his hand.

Letting out a groan due to a ray of the sun that immediately assaults his eyes, he takes a handful of sweet-scented quilt and throws it over his head, staying like that for few more minutes. Until it hits him. Why the sun’s rising _that_ way, that is.

The quilt’s off him again but it’s not until another minute later before Jihoon gets his answer—or, confirmation to his assumption. After all that happened last night, Jihoon comes to, unsurprisingly, with a sore lower body but, surprisingly, in his own bed.

Next thing he does is run a hand over his chest. Finding it still clothed, he lets out a sigh of relief which only lasts for so long before anything else comes flooding in absolutely no order of priority, a lot of which passes in a blur. Only this stands out: what happens now?

His eyes eventually land on the pile of the rest of his clothes from last night abandoned at one corner of the room and Jihoon can’t help swiftly looking down at his midriff to be greeted with a stripe that’s gone greyish overnight surrounded by dark fabric—a gross but indisputable testament. Dialogues still vivid in his memories, he sure can make a perfect recountal of everything but one: how he ended up here.

A heavy sleeper that he is, there’s no way he walked back here on his own albeit how much shame he might be feeling.

And maybe _why_ too, though that’s pretty well obvious because, who’d wanna wake up to their ex-husband to be?

As much as he’d dislike to, the bottomless man (in literal sense) does get up and fight through the lingering cold of the morning to the bathroom for a shower that he knows will leave him no less cranky than before but at least a tad bit more…cleansed.

Only when Jihoon’s readied himself to tackle what awaits him head-on does he see it: a familiar obnoxious yellow note stuck to the door, with no initials but just three words of:

_Dino’ll come by._

He’s expected this. He really did and yet…

“A flight came up,” Chan—or _Dino_ , as he’s just learnt, which is if anything long overdue—tells him over the coffee table.

The boy hasn’t stopped scrolling through his cell since he got here, which rubs Jihoon up an extremely wrong way. Seungkwan on his right being seated like a log only makes the scenario the more _familiar_. Like a déjà vu.

“My suggestion is that you come up with a better lie.” Jihoon half doubts his own words though because it’s Kwon Soonyoung, but he said what he said.

Finally Chan unfixes his eyes from the screen of his phone, taking off his glasses in what Jihoon believes to be an intention of rubbing them with the hem of his shirt.

“Jihoon hyung,” the younger does start rubbing them and it’s a comfort knowing he’s still got some control over something, that his life isn’t all coming apart at the seams like it feels. “I have no idea either! Hyung sent me here with _one_ text and I _seriously_ knew this was supposed to be happening today, right now, when I got _this_ from his room,” he waves the brown envelope around for emphasis, which would’ve been considered a rude thing to do to someone older but no one seems to care at the moment.

Jihoon knows Chan isn’t the wrong one here, that he’s taking it out on the wrong guy, and that it’s not nearly a valid reason but the boy’s cousin is just…frustrating. His vision spins, his head hurts, and Jihoon doesn’t know anymore.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he huffs closing his eyes for a minute if only to perish thoughts of any kinds.

Seungkwan, disconcertingly quiet, peels an envelope of similar size and color from within Jihoon’s grip when the older doesn’t plan to do anything with it and begins laying out what’s inside on the glass surface in the meantime, which is a single sheet of paper. Chan does the same with the missing person’s.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” Chan tunes his voice into one for story-telling just to ease off the atmosphere. “‘Termination of one-year marriage contract’, the contract itself, and—a white envelope? I think it’s compensation- hyung, are you okay?”

The younger two’s attention’s suddenly directed back at him, and Jihoon roughly rids of his face a single droplet that isn’t supposed to be there with a sleeve. “Yeah, let’s just get this over with,” he croaks, aware his voice isn’t convincing anyone but as he said, let them just get this over with.

“Okay, so here I go?” Chan looks warily at the one across him, then his friend, before eventually gets on with it when there comes no further response. “ _Cause_ for early termination: the justification of the marriage ceased to exist. _Do_ you acknowledge?”

It’s a first hearing Kwon using such fancy vocabulary, though Jihoon can’t possibly have an idea why the younger’s gotta be talking funny like that. Maybe the boy’s been watching too many legal TV series.

“I do.” _So that’s for the death of your mother._

“ _Mis_ judgment of the other party’s identity. Do you acknowledge?”

“I do.” you can just say I lied to you.

“ _Con_ flict of interests of both parties. Acknowledge?”

“…I do.”

“ _Vi_ olation of both parties’ privacy. Acknow- actually wait, what’s this one about? D-did you guys-”

“Lee Chan,” Jihoon clicks his tongue as a warning. “Please.”

“Ahem, well then,” Chan coughs. “Violation of both parties’ privacy. Acknowledge?”

“I do.” _Not_.

“That’s all.”

The sound as Jihoon rips apart his own contract paper is satisfying at worst.

Chan mirrors the act with his cousin’s but in unrestrained hesitancy, watching as his late cousin-in-law disappears upstairs. Tailing after him is a suitcase and a duffle bag when he returns a minute later, fast like they were prepared and ready to go.

The older looks hell-bent on leaving without so little as a proper goodbye when he stops dead at the foyer, taking the younger two’s breaths with his walking back.

Jihoon’s walking back to… _bang_ something on the coffee table. “I’m returning this,” he snarls and then is gone. For good.

“Couldn’t he be more careful, geez. Master gave it to him for fortune’s sake,” grouses Seungkwan as he picks up the ring to cradle between his fingers, must’ve held back his tongue solely to avoid getting on the older’s nerves and make matters worse than they already are. “Hypocrite. If his pride was that high, he shouldn’t have taken that money.”

But Chan knows better that that’s not Jihoon’s—after all, he was their ring bearer—which in turn begs _questions_. Questions he shouldn’t expect answers from today onward.

“Does look like it’s gonna pour,” Seungkwan goes on to comment about the weather. “Do you think I can steal one their umbrellas—ah shite, it’s just _his_ now, isn’t it.”

Thanks to his friend stating the obvious, the sky promptly looks ten times gloomier.

Fuck the world if Lee Jihoon wasn’t born someone who’s keen on weather forecast. But he begins to have second thought with stuff in tow and eleven more flights of stairs to go.

Punching in the passcode (new one, as he remembers) and kicking the door open, first thing that punctures his ears is:

“ _Holy fuck_ \- Lee Jihoon, what happened?!”

He’ll take that as: Seungcheol who’s apparently rushed to the front door does expect him today, just not in a dripping state giving out a zombie apocalypse survivor vibe. He did survive a storm umbrella-less though.

“Hold your position right there! Don’t let it dribble—” the older puts up his hands in a shielding stance as if that could really hold Jihoon in place before he makes a run hopefully for a towel or two. “Here ya go- _yahhh_ _Jihoonah!_ ” his cheery voice turns exasperated as soon as he registers the telltale trail of water.

Jihoon spares him a glance from where he’s broken all the rules left in the world and collapsed right on the sofa. Rules and contracts and anything law-associated is his least favorite at the moment. “How are you here, Choi, it’s a workday,” he says as a greeting, has enough shit only to outstretch his hand to grab the towel but none for hierarchy right now.

Which the older doesn’t seem to care as of the moment, merely gets on with reasoning whilst returning to the stove he’s left on in the rush to open the door, glad to see nothing’s blown up in the meantime, “Couldn’t find you at the bar so I figured you might be coming here since it’s divorce day?”

“I’m glad it is.”

Seungcheol comes back with a rag. “Sarcastic much?”

“What do you think?”

“No.” Jihoon thinks there’s a shrug to his reply as he hasn’t cast another glance the older’s way. “You didn’t sound sarcastic. Just bitter.”

“Well, Kwon Soonyoung is a _dickhead_.”

“Now you _do_ sound sarcastic, and bitter,” Seungcheol leaves the rag on the floor to do its only job. The second (third) time out, he brings with him a steaming pot and familiar mouthwatering waft to the air. Shin ramyun—with kimchi, a pack of sausages, spam, boiled egg, the list goes on, aka just his favorite. “Food’s here, make way.”

Anyone of this household needn’t be told twice about food, hence Jihoon springs up at once to set up a make-shift trivet. Today’s victim: some immaterial (he hopes) report paper.

Satisfied just to see the drenched one digging in, Seungcheol takes the liberty to being a drying ministration on the younger’s still wet hair with the slightly damp towel. “You disgusting thing, aigoo. What’ll you ever do without me?”

“Maybe I’ll go live with Mom,” Jihoon says half seriously, gives up on shoving away the stronger one after a minute and purely focuses on not getting his tongue burned or spilling the precious soup. “When that happens, what’ll _you_ do without me?”

“Me? Probably die out of boredom,” Seungcheol laughs and Jihoon recalls he needs more of that in his life. Laughter. “I take it things didn’t go your way?”

“Like they ever do,” Jihoon carries on with his sarcasm agenda. “The towel smells odd by the way.”

If that gets Seungcheol to malfunction for a split second, Jihoon lets it slide and inhales more noodles.

Finishing up the toweling, Seungcheol flops down beside Jihoon who hands over only pair of chopsticks. Seungcheol’s about give it back after two mouthfuls at most when Jihoon, head in between his knees, starts groaning, “I don’t fucking know anymore. What fucking went wrong. If he was just fucking toying with me. He just fucking disappeared this morning after what we did last night…”

Jihoon was gonna grant Soonyoung a regret so big it could last a lifetime, but look who ends up being the one regretting instead. That’s karma right back at him.

Seungcheol sets the utensils down. “It was consensual, right?”

“He was the one asking for it,” Jihoon mutters back. His brother sure knows how to make him choke on his words.

“Was he? With his mind in its best state?”

“…He might’ve been out drinking _but_ -”

“ _Of course_ he’d fucking disappear! I mean, I’d, too.”

“But he seemed all sobered up,” Jihoon slowly lifts his head, finishing lamely. “By that time I mean.”

“You don’t _know_ that,” Seungcheol quips, but Jihoon doesn’t need reminding. “How was it?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes at the one not acting his age. Why be curious about that? “Can we just be serious about this-”

“ _Oh Lee Jihoon and his effing seriousness-_ ”

“-bumped into the nightstand three times, fell out of bed hit head first to the floor, almost got the wrong hole?”

It’s Seungcheol’s turn to roll his eyes. “There’s _one_ hole, mind you.”

“Exactly.”

“So what? Terrible night?”

Jihoon pretends to think, or maybe it hasn’t needed pretending at all. “He got a free pass since it was his first time.”

“Just like how it’s your first time doing this, Jihoon,” Seungcheol says, ricocheting the subject faster than Jihoon’s liking. “There’s always plenty of someone better.”

_But what if I could never…_

The statement never gets to leave the cone of his tongue the moment it sinks in. He wants to resist the trembling so badly but nothing seems to be working out.

Good thing the older knows exactly what to do, like reaching out and tugging his head under his chin, unafraid of getting moisture on him like he’s let on.

“You did great, Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol begins rubbing soothing circles on his back. “You did the right thing. Maturely. Courageously.”

Jihoon snakes his arms around him as he fights through the hyperventilation phase. “So why, aren’t I, feeling, like it?”

Seungcheol responds by only hugging him tighter, fingers going to card through his damp locks. They lie on the floor like that, backs supported by the sofa, even after another storm passes.

“Thanks for this,” Jihoon sniffs, surprised that sleep hasn’t found him but also apologetically aware how much of a mess he’s been.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” Seungcheol sounds genuinely contented. “Actually, I was thinking, Ji.”

Jihoon hums to indicate he’s listening.

“What if he dumped you knowing you’re a snitch?”

Seungcheol was just gonna throw it out there casually but instead the younger stiffens against him, thus why he quickly brushes it off with,

“But what good’ll come from finding out now, right? Let’s just sleep. You need and deserve it.”

Strange his lids feel heavy right away, and the long needed rest finds Jihoon in next to no time.

“You came in early today.”

“So did you,” Jihoon mumbles back half-assedly from behind the bar.

“Thought you’d need time away.”

“I guess seventeen hours of sleep ain’t enough.”

Junhui scoffs but makes the effort to clarify anyway. “ _More_ time like weeks, months, _years_?”

Jihoon’s about to ask why but then thinks again. “Where’d you get that from?”

“Seungkwan, who else.”

_And Seungkwan from Chan. Right, that’s always the pattern._

“ _Ddaeng_ ,” Junhui says playfully. “Seungkwan knew from Vernon who knew from Minghao who _then_ knew from Chan.”

“And why’d Minghao know from Chan?”

“Because I was joking and you were in need of some jokes,” the taller smoothly admits defeat, breaking into a light smile. “On a serious note, you were basically a dude in distress before yesterday.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Seungcheol in babying mode is annoying. Plus I’ve got nothing to do at home.”

“I feel you, bro,” Junhui nods in empathy. “Haohao wasn’t much different when I sprained my ankle that one time.”

 _“Remind me to leave you alone next time, then,”_ Minghao is heard from one of the dressing rooms.

“Just kidding, baby. Please don’t~” Junhui promptly singsongs back, sending with it a very vocal air kiss.

Jihoon watches the exchange and as always starts feeling like a third-wheeler. “Go make out in the backroom or whatever for all I care.”

“Nah, he’s here to work on some stuff,” Junhui plugs a grape off its bunch in the fruit bowl prepared for patrons (as always), upon which Jihoon frowns, but not to put it in his mouth right away. As it appears, he’s curling his lips around it. Not unexpected from the house dad. “Got an idea when we were watching this clip while jerking off-”

“ _Okay okay, TMI,_ I get it!” He hates these graphic guys with passion, seriously.

“Oh, sorry, thought you ‘don’t care’,” the taller looks anything but sorry, sticking out his tongue to take the poor grape in. “You should cut your hair, or dye it,” he chews innocently, the fruit’s freshness could be deduced from the sound alone. “I’m thinking silver, though red sounds no less tempting—last time you dyed it back to black just for first impression, wasn’t it?”

The statement’s kinda true and kinda not. His scalp was metaphorically bleeding from so much bleaching throughout the years so Jihoon got a cut a lot shorter than his usual on a whim leaving him with just a little light split ends with which Seungcheol helped snipping off in few following weeks.

“How’d things turn out for that lady—the biracial?” Jihoon asks instead of answering and risking giving him the satisfaction.

“Flew back to Japan I guess,” Junhui spins thoughtfully once, twice in his stool, untroubled by the topic change. “Something along her pop’s Yakuza clan calling her back. Why, ya miss her?”

Jihoon ignores the suggestive note, returning the rocks glass that’s been in his hands for too long to the rack. “Not her, but someone who almost ruined it all.”

The house dad cocks a brow at that, apparently not informed of the incident. Which is weird good. Weird but good.

Still, it’s probably the worst call he could make bringing that up, because now the incident comes back to say hello.

“So how was it?oHow was ”

Jihoon doesn’t need elaboration with Junhui’s face already giving away the context. Thanks the place for being customer-free at the time of precisely three twenty-one p.m. but why’s everyone so curious about _that_ again? No, how the hell does even he know? Really Boo-

When Junhui kindly taps on his neck to demonstrate, Jihoon wants to be six feet under. Mortified, he pulls his hoodie up crossing his arms.

Junhui still finds his reddening skin anywhere funny. “Can’t believe he left just one but anyway from your reaction, he must be pretty decent- yah I’m trying to help here!”

Jihoon’s fist is ready to give a plus one to the shoulder that’s being rubbed. “State three ways how that’s helping.”

“Duh, for starter it’s helping you realize how good he’s at-”

The target’s learnt his lesson of sitting tight to be struck this time around, putting a good meter between himself and the attacker with a single clean leap when hands are thrown for the second time.

“Come on, you’re twenty-eight, alright? Twenty-eight! Two years away before I shall start calling you Lee Jihoon goon,” Junhui nags from where he’s evacuated to a wall, leaning on it. “Having been able to stick to your resolve for that amount of time? You’re incredible. Inspirational. Crazy, even. I’m colossally proud of you, yi michinnom-ah! That is to say, breaking the virgin curse was undoubtedly your best decision thus far!”

“I regret it plenty.”

Junhui straightforwardly ignores his repenting. “Who were you preserving your virginity for anyway? Some Korean version of Prince Charming?”

If someone were to ask Jihoon that some other days back, he’d have agreed that _he_ was one.

“From what I heard, isn’t Kwon supposed to be as straight as a ruler?” Junhui yawns through the rest of his questions.

“Oh I dunno, plausibly because neither of us is capable of popping out babies nine months later anyway? And honest to God a guy can and _will_ be curious?”

“What about you, why were you so easy to marry him?” Now there’re arms crossed. Since when is this an interrogation? “Was money really it?”

Jihoon sighs but he’s decided. “Rather than money, it’s-”

“Yah, LEE JIHOON- where’s he?”

Jihoon feels like sighing again so he does.

With Junhui’s unhelpful help of a directional ‘here’, Seungkwan does an apparition from the entrance to he was at a millisecond ago to the place Junhui used to be a minute ago.

“Yah, Lee Jihoon, do you ever realize how much effort I’ve put in and how much time I’ve wasted on routing for you gays?! Do you?!” Seungkwan yells right in his face and Jihoon can only pretend to not have heard him, giving him an unimpressed face for both the shouting and the not-minding-his-own-business-ness.

Then lethargically he recast his eyes to finish what he’s started. “It’s a favor,” he tells Junhui.

“For whom?” responds a voice that’s not Junhui’s. _Two_ voices actually since Minghao and Hansol, whom he almost forgot walked in together with Seungkwan, spoke about the same time.

There’s a ripe time for everything and Jihoon feels that that specific moment’s for him to come clean about being an undercover informant for the police and helping his brother who’s a detective with some cases. Most of the time it’s never this deep.

Thankfully no one points a finger at him—not Xu since Wen’s in no different situation, not Chwe who despite his usual big reaction can’t care less (he may’ve commented it’s a cool side job), but maybe with an exception of…

“Boo Seungkwan, don’t you dare be butthurt. _Everyone_ was supposed to be left out of this,” Jihoon warns first thing after his confession at the foreshadowing sulky face.

The sudden commotion at the entrance indicates that the others are clocking in so instead of verbal response Seungkwan takes his arm from across the counter.

“You’re really gonna go on living pretending none of it ever happened?” Seungkwan starts anew when they’re alone outside both leaning on the mucky wall. “As if just forget and it’ll be fine.”

Jihoon extracts a stick and lights it without hesitation unlike last time, extending the pack towards the other male too.

“I quit,” Seungkwan declines with a sniff. “Sollie hates the smell that lingers.”

Jihoon saves his surprised (cringed) look and for a moment it’s quiet. Just inhale, exhale.

“I didn’t say it’ll be but was kinda hoping it’d,” he says finally and blows a smoke ring.

“What about working here? His house’s just blocks away, what if he comes find you?”

“Are you suggesting _I_ quit?” Jihoon thinks he’s the right to be offended at that. Now he’s got to quit his job after what that asshole did to him? If that’s how the world works for others, fuck it. And to anyone who thinks otherwise: over his dead body, Lee Jihoon ain’t going anywhere. _Calm down, Jihoon. Remember: inhale, exhale._ “He’s got no reason to but even if he does, we’re basically strangers.”

“Says who?”

He releases another cloud. “The contract.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan presses, doubtful.

“Yeah.” Inhale, exhale. “Get over it, it’s over.”

Seungkwan looks down intending to mourn the foot-crushed cigarette but something more eye-catching catches his eyes instead (duh) sending them widened immediately.

The slamming sound breaks his stare and also his train of thoughts.

“What hypocrite…” Seungkwan ends up mumbling to himself, the older having disappeared inside.

For those a little slow, the ghost he saw earlier was no other than a navy blue ring that sits nicely on Jihoon’s middle finger. How fitting if you think about it.

It’s one fine day in November. Everything’s eventually back to normal with Jihoon having to sleep it off just once. Nothing too embarrassing for his standard, though it’d been better if it was zero but whatever.

Currently he’s attending to his usual afternoon shift.

Enter any convenience store in Seoul and you’ll find a TV that’s always playing. And being a cashier means having to be with it all shift long all year long. Jihoon never pays much attention to it anyway, until when today’s news program comes on.

According to the female anchor, first snow that’s yet to come is anticipated in a few days. If they’re off a little off about it, then it’ll be in time with his birthday, he thinks wishfully.

“Moving on to …” resumes the female anchor.

And Jihoon would’ve carried on with his day hadn’t a picture of airport been pulled up.

Jihoon couldn’t care less what she’s talking about, he just knows that… it gets him thinking about airplanes.

Correction: airplanes and those who fly them.

(“Oh fuck you. Stop being sentimental for a day, please!”

“I said to treat us to hanwoo, not this! What's even this pitiful kimbap and-”

“Anyone needs kicking out?”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap. Big thanks to anyone who gave this a chance, and has even been sticking along till the end. And a smaller thanks to myself for defeating my procrastination for once and thus for once got to say ‘that’s a wrap’.
> 
> Last tmi: this was supposed to have a happy ending (as I live for the angst with a happy ending tag), but to get there is another long tortuous road, and here is not too bad a choice for the end note so I basically halved it lol. Hence, have this ending until the second half is out. If I’ll get to writing it, that is.
> 
> SEVENTEEN world domination:)

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe everyone.


End file.
